As It Turned Out
by faithlight
Summary: Yes, we all know how Lorelai's life was supposed to turn out after Season 7. She and Christopher were over for good, and Lorelai and Luke were going to stay together. But what if things turned out differently?
1. Chapter 1

The wind whipped Lorelai's hair as she leaned on the railing and looked out over the water. It was a beautiful day. This trip with Luke had been worthwhile after all, if only for the scenery—emerald forests with the bright colours of cottages, houses and towns buried within; and far beyond, blue hillsides sweeping upwards. It was refreshing to look at scenery instead of being the mute third party in an animated conversation between Luke and April.

Neither she and Luke had expected April to come along, but at the last minute she'd decided she'd rather be with her dad than at a science camp. Of course, she'd tried to turn the whole boat trip into a science camp. But that was April. She and Lorelai were getting along surprisingly well, all things considered. Actually, they were like old friends. But Luke and April…

Luke and April were like father and daughter. Lorelai sighed. The sky was clear except for the faintest threads of cloud, and the sun was dazzlingly bright without being over-warm. Below her feet, the water flowed turquoise-blue and sparkling. In the background, she could hear the hum of the boat's motor—and voices. They grew closer, approaching her.

"And Dad, you should see the orthoptera specimen I collected. If I just add nine more insects I'll beat Chris Peterson."

"Who's Chris Peterson?"

"A boy in my class. He's really smart. He has the biggest bug collection you have ever seen. He's even got a tarantula hawk wasp."

"Sounds like an impressive collection."

"It's a superlative collection. But mine is gonna be better."

"Of course it is."

"Except, I just need one thing."

"Should I get out my bug spray? Or do I need bee-keeping gear?"

"Oh, dad. I'm not going to put us through an aparian operation. Bees scare me."

"So what are we after then?"

"Can we go on a hike? Please? Because I hear that they have some great coleoptera here. And maybe I can even get an indigo dustywing. They don't have those in New Mexico."

"Fine, we'll go for a hike. You can collect bugs, and I'll test you on your wilderness survival skills."

"Ha, for your information, I read that whole booklet you gave me. I am ready to send out flares and stomp out forest fires. But dad? You can't use my predilection for insects to make me try out all the edible insects on the trail."

"What, you like bugs but you don't want to eat them?"

"Ew, dad! Just because I like something doesn't mean I want it in my digestive system."

"Okay. Just don't make me chase green and brown butterflies through the forest all afternoon."

"Deal. You're the best, dad."

"So meet on deck after lunch?"

"You bet."

April scampered away, and Luke approached the railing. Lorelai half-turned.

"So, you're going bug hunting."

"How'd you know?"

She pointed to her ears. "These are handy devices, you know? Pick up sound waves from yards away."

"You want to come along?"

"I'm not big on small things that crawl."

"So no bug hunting."

"I think I'll skip out this time."

There was a pause, while they both leaned over the railing, watching the water flow past and admiring the lush coastline beyond. The loud thumping and whirring of a helicopter above was a welcome sound in what would otherwise be uncomfortable silence. Finally Lorelai spoke.

"So, the trip's almost over and it feels like you and I are always doing different things."

"I know. I know. Uh…okay, we'll compromise. April and I will go for our hike in the morning, and then we'll do what you want to do in the afternoon."

"No, go ahead, do your thing for the whole day. You wouldn't be crazy about the Newport Jazz Festival anyway."

"No, no, it's world famous, right? I can get into jazz. April likes music, she'd probably love it. I'll go ask her. April, sweetie!"

"Luke, really. You don't have to put on an act for me."

"I'm not acting. I want to spend more time with you. It doesn't matter if it's jazz or Beethoven. We'll be listening to it together."

"You used to mock the stuff I liked. Go ahead, mock. I can take it."

"I don't feel like mocking. You want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you listen to what they have to say."

"Babe, you don't even understand what I say when I say it. Take the other day, when April said she wanted to go to San Francisco and I told her, make sure and wear some flowers. You had no clue what I meant."

"No, I knew you were quoting some, uh, poem by some guy from a hundred years ago."

"See, see, you had no idea! Why didn't you just come out and say it instead of standing there and nodding like you were the only toddler at the Summer of Love?"

"Music, movies, it's your thing. I go along with it."

"But you don't like it. You camp, you cook, occasionally you read a book. See, that rhymed! And you are grimacing."

"Okay, okay, I don't like rhymes, I don't like riddles, I don't need all these cultural references. It was cute when you'd come into the diner every day, it was cute for a while when we were dating, it isn't cute now."

"Why not?"

"Because we're planning a future together. We're going to spend every day of our lives together."

"Oh, that suddenly makes my banter D-listed? You liked it when we were dating."

"Look, there's a lot of things that I like that I don't want to live with every day!"

"You used to think it was cute. You'd tease me about it."

"You used to like my teasing."

"You used to like my cooking."

"I do like your cooking. It's just that when they made the seafood compartment in my stomach, they made it about a tenth the size of yours and sensitive to anything with gills."

"We're on the water, there's fish in the water. It's what you eat when you go on a boat trip."

"Maybe I don't like boats."

"Look, we'll be on dry land soon enough and you can go to your show-whatever-thingy and April and I will tag along."

"Or maybe we should just call it a day."

"What? It's 10 in the morning."

"Luke. I'm not talking about this trip."

There was a brief, stunned silence on Luke's side.

"You're giving up? I mean, I thought we were going to try to make this work. I thought you wanted that."

"So, it's what you want?"

"I just want you to be happy."

"And you're happy, right?

"Yeah."

"Totally content and a-okay with going full-steam ahead, all flags flying?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I see it now."

"Nice as the water looks right now, it's not going to be smooth sailing and balmy sunshine all the way through."

"We've changed, huh?"

"You have April. After one year she gets you better than I ever will."

"She's my daughter."

"Yup, a carbon copy of bluntness and sarcasm with a heart of gold underneath."

"So do you think we would have made it if she hadn't shown up?"

"We probably would have sailed off into the sunset on June 3rd. We would have just seen the choppy water a little later."

"Yeah. Do think we would have made it if I hadn't been such an idiot when I found out?"

"Maybe, if I'd stopped my Marcel Marceau act a few weeks sooner."

"You think we would have had a chance if I hadn't run to Christopher?"

"The odds weren't great, but I would have given it my best shot."

"And now?"

"You don't want it. I don't want it."

"I think our chances are about a thousand to one."

"We changed."

"April changed you. In a good way. You're a dad, a great dad. You and April, you just click."

"You changed too. You and Christopher, the two of you click."

"Luke, Chris and I are over. I'm over him."

"I know, I didn't mean that. I just meant...sometimes he understood you better than I did."

"He was my first...boyfriend."

"I know. If I had come along first maybe things would have been different."

"Maybe."

"Or maybe we wouldn't even have noticed each other. Maybe the only reason we got together is because we were both stuck in this crazy town and we were lonely and we were there for each other."

"It's a possibility."

Lorelai's face was turned away from Luke. He shifted awkwardly.

"Hey, hey, don't cry. Uh—'cause I don't have the biggest supply of Kleenex on this boat and what there is, is probably soggy."

"Yeah. You've, ah, you've got something in your eye."

"Yeah, that salt water really irritates the eyes."

"Maybe you need to wear goggles."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe I should buy some when we get to the next town."

"That would be a good idea."

The water lapped against the boat, a sound that seemed loud in the silence. Even Lorelai's next words were barely audible.

"Luke?"

"Yes."

"Thanks for being there for me."

"Oh, it was, it was nothing. I'd do it all over again. You were...it was worth it."

"So, do I still get my caffeine fix every morning? 'Cause I understand if you don't…"

"That depends on if you ask nicely and don't insist on a triple helping of fries afterwards."

"Only on rainy days or days when my mom calls twice."

"Yeah, and if you try to sweet-talk me, your coffee might just get cold."

"You won't let it get cold. You never do!'

Luke grinned faintly, apparently thinking of a retort. There was a gleam of humour in his eyes—but also the glimmer of tears. Lorelai realized they probably mirrored her own. But she also realized, to her faint surprise, that the tears probably wouldn't last long.


	2. Chapter 2

Back home again, she thought ruefully that the statement was true: Luke's coffee never got cold. But whatever had been warm in their relationship had cooled. She didn't fully understand why. Yet somehow, strangely enough, it didn't matter very much.

For months she'd desperately wanted to get back together with Luke, even though she'd never really admitted it to anyone. She had never even admitted it fully to herself, but that was because she was steeling herself for a disappointment. But the truth was, she hadn't stopped thinking about Luke since she'd ended things with Christopher. Actually, she hadn't stopped thinking about Luke since she'd broken off their engagement that fateful night. Her whole life had been built up around Luke. Not only had she been friends with the man for years, not only had his diner been the centre of her existence for years, but she had been about to marry him, spend the rest of her life with him, have his children.

Everything had seemed so perfect: she had her fantasy June wedding all planned out in her mind by the time she found out about April. Everything after that seemed like a nightmare. It couldn't be real, because she and Luke were the perfect couple, and he was the one man who would never let her down.

And he'd let her down. But even after the ultimatum, even after sleeping with Christopher, even after dating Christopher for weeks and enjoying it far more than she should have…even after months, Lorelai still hadn't surrendered hope of a future with Luke. It seemed impossible that in just a couple of weeks, she could go from being engaged to Luke to dating Christopher again, after all those years.

So no one was more surprised than she when somehow she ended up in Paris, the most magical city in the world, listening to Christopher propose to her again. She was even more astonished to find herself touched, moved, wishing she could accept. It didn't make any sense—or wouldn't have, if a nagging voice deep down inside her wasn't telling her that a very small part of her had always wanted this. Even when she'd been planning her wedding with Luke.

And anyway, it was exhausting to think, to make decisions, to try and figure out the mess her life had become. It was easier just to go with the flow, to let Christopher take the lead—as long as they were still living in the moment. The proposal was just one moment. The French wedding was just another moment. Christopher being in her house was another one.

But Christopher suggesting they go along with her mother's wedding…move to another house…have another baby…was something else entirely. He was planning for the future, the distant future. He was acting as though their marriage was permanent, instead of an accidental bad decision she could easily find her way out of so she could find her way back to Luke. Because her future was definitely supposed to be with Luke. Strangely comfortable though it felt, she'd never had any intention of going back permanently to Christopher. She couldn't understand how she'd let their relationship get this far, or why sometimes it seemed so easy to forget Luke.

Of course, even in her mind-numbed state, she'd hated what she'd had to do—what she'd had to tell Christopher. Nevertheless, she could breathe much easier once Christopher was out of her life. Then she could focus on getting back to where she'd taken the first wrong turn, the beginning of this convoluted mess. The moment she'd left Luke for Christopher.

Because it was all her fault, really. If Luke, her knight in shining armor, the man who'd always taken care of her, had rejected her, she must really be a horrible person. It wasn't a coincidence that all her relationships seemed to fail bitterly at one point or another. They all had one common factor. She vaguely remembered what she'd wept to Rory during her first break up with Luke: "He's gone. He hates me. I blew it! I blew everything…He said he needed time to think, but I pushed him…I pushed him, and now he's gone…God, I really screwed up this time."

That was exactly how she'd felt for most of last year. She'd lost Luke, and it had all been her own fault for pushing him when he needed time. She needed him to tell her that she was still deserving of love, despite having kept him in the dark about her feelings all those months. That she wasn't the most unfaithful, selfish woman in the world, despite having run to Christopher…despite having married Christopher and barely giving Luke a backwards glance.

When she saw the tent that he'd put up for Rory's party, heard Sookie say that he'd planned the entire party, she knew. He still cared. She wasn't a total failure. She hadn't lost Luke forever. He still loved her.

Ironically, only two months after that _bon voyage _party, Lorelai had no clue why she had cared so much. Actually, maybe she did know. She'd wanted Luke's friendship again. She'd wanted his forgiveness. She'd wanted him to say that he was willing to give her a second chance. And having heard all that, she was ready to move on.

The truth was, at first Lorelai had been delighted at how easily she and April had developed a rapport. April was lively, intelligent, mature, and could be very blunt—almost uncomfortably blunt. But she treated Lorelai like a friend she'd known for years. She whispered secrets about Luke—harmless anecdotes about comical habits he had, his masculine obtuseness, his well-intentioned blunders. At first, Lorelai laughed right along with April. She'd been thrilled that Luke's daughter was talking so freely to her.

And then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, April's little stories became a problem. Or rather, they revealed a problem. April was telling Lorelai things Luke did and said which Lorelai didn't even know—habits and hang-ups, likes and dislikes that Lorelai wasn't even aware of. Somehow, this daughter of Luke's had, in the space of a year and a half, come to know Luke better than Lorelai had in ten years. April was able to calm him down when he was on a rant, to get him to try something new when he complained about it. When she told him to how to make more efficient use of fuel, to cook his fish a little differently, to study the world through binoculars with her, Luke complied with astonishing mildness.

Granted, Luke had nearly always done what Lorelai asked him to, no matter how much he'd complained along the way. But when April gave him suggestions, Luke barely even complained. He seemed to like her suggestions, to appreciate her ideas. Lorelai had always thought Luke's grumbling at her didn't matter, because he obviously had strong feelings for her in spite of all her habits he couldn't appreciate. Maybe Luke had thought the same way. But since April had come along, Luke's standards for a relationship seemed to have changed. He'd cared about Lorelai as a human being despite her personality, habits and interests. But with April, he'd discovered it was possible to love both a human being, and all the traits that made her unique.

After only a few days, Lorelai had begun to discover the same thing. She cared about Luke as a person. But as a unique person—Luke Danes, with all the traits that made him completely individual? Lorelai realized she'd never known or understood or even enjoyed being around this man as much as she'd wanted to believe she did.

Their romantic relationship was over and buried, and somehow it didn't seem worthy of being revived. Luke had seen it. She'd seen it. Time passed. Feelings changed. And Lorelai was just beginning to admit it to herself that maybe they hadn't changed as much as it seemed. Maybe she and Luke had just learned more about who they really were as people…and who they weren't.

She unlocked the door of her house and stepped inside, sniffing the slightly stale smell of a house that hasn't received a breath of fresh air in weeks. The house looked somehow cold, empty, not cozy and homelike the way it always used to look when Rory was there.

Lorelai fought back tears. For more than twenty years, it seemed, she'd been trying not to think about how it would feel when Rory finally left her. Especially if she hadn't found anyone to spend the rest of her life with yet. But here she was, finally, facing the reality. And it wasn't pleasant. It was cold, much colder than the superficial chill of the house. It was lonely, much lonelier than the quiet emptiness of the house.

It was a terrible feeling, one she'd been trying to stave off all her life with one hand, while pushing people away with her other hand. And now, it seemed she didn't have to try to push anyone away, at least not out of her house. There was no one.

Except a very large, very shiny flat screen TV in the middle of the living room. She hadn't thought she liked it. She'd thought it was garish.

Yet here she was, sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room, looking at the TV and starting to cry, for no apparent reason. Except one possibility she probably shouldn't...much better to look at the flashing light on the answering machine.

Much, much better. Feeling relieved at the prospect of hearing another human voice in the house, Lorelai quickly pressed the button to listen to her messages.

Twenty minutes and twenty messages later, Lorelai found herself listening to one a second time.

"Hi, Lorelai. Surprise, surprise! I bet you can't guess who this is?"

But she did know, almost right away. Aimee had a very distinct voice.

"I'll give you a hint. Who got in trouble for spray-painting 'Give me liberty or give me death' all over the second floor windows of the school, while you sat in the teacher's lounge and told everyone how you wanted to be the world's greatest junior high teacher?"

Lorelai grinned, transported back more than twenty-five years, while the message continued in her ear. She and Aimee had been great friends back in elementary school, even best friends. Aimee had even been one of the few girls she'd kept in touch with sporadically, through phone calls and letters, after she'd moved to Stars Hollow…at least for a few years. But except for Christmas cards, she hadn't heard from Aimee for years.

She tuned back into the message. "So I thought I'd take the scenic route home, which means I'm going to be in your area around noon on Thursday. And I thought, well, if Lorelai is still living in that cute little house in that cute little town, maybe she won't mind having lunch with me and catching up. Sooo, if you're home, and you get this message, and it's before 11:59 on Tuesday, give me a call on my cell…"

Lorelai jerked to attention, scribbling down the number. It was Wednesday night: Aimee had left the message on Tuesday. She still had time to call her. Lorelai curled her feet up on the couch and stared off into space. It might be good to see someone who was totally removed from the mess her life had been for the past year or two—someone who belonged to an earlier, simpler time in her life. Someone who could listen to her tale of woe without taking sides the way the whole town seemed to whenever her romantic life took a turn.

Lorelai picked up her phone and began dialing.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day the August sun was streaming down on Lorelai and Aimee as they sat on a picnic bench in a park about fifteen miles from Stars Hollow, having ordered pizza at a nearby take-out. During their phone conversation, Lorelai had insisted that they have lunch somewhere outside Stars Hollow. "Somewhere outside, period," she'd added. "I need to be reminded that there's some place in the world where two dozen people don't ask you every day why your nasturtiums aren't blooming,"

Aimee had laughed. "Honey, not to crush your ego, but I think that's about ninety-nine percent of the earth's landmass." But she had gone along with Lorelai's request. As a busy psychology professor, she said her recent trip halfway across the country had been more of a getaway than the research hiatus she'd claimed. "They might not know my address and phone number, but they sure as sugar know my e-mail address, office number, and how to stop me from going home early."

Having both escaped from a stifling world where everyone's eyes were on them, Lorelai and Aimee were now comfortably sitting in a park, surrounded only by a mother who was watching her baby, and a few squirrels who glanced warily at them and then scurried off. Lorelai and Aimee spent the whole last hour eating, reminiscing and discovering that despite a few more pounds and facial lines, they were, on the whole, the same people they'd been in grade school. And they still got along famously.

When their last burst of laughter had faded, Aimee licked her fingers and turned to her friend.

"So, I've been talking a lot about me. Which probably isn't anything new, but for a change, what's new with you?"

Lorelai shrugged. "Since when?"

"Since eight years ago when I last saw you. Rory's grown up, following the future president of the United States around the world. Your parents are still in Hartford, you're still in Stars Hollow, but that's just scratching the surface."

"Yeah, you dig a little deeper, you find the dirt."

"Okay, sounds like you need a listening ear."

"How many ears do you have? Because I don't want you to go deaf or anything."

"Honey, I am a psychology prof. I have to have two listening ears all day long, and they haven't given out yet."

"Okay. Long story or short?"

"Summary first, then the novel. If there's time."

"Okay, starting from…"

"Let's say the last twelve months."

"Last year. Okay. Well, I got engaged, I got unengaged, I got married, I got separated."

"And maybe we should skip the summary and go to the novel."

"You're sure you're comfortable? No pine needles on your seat? No wasp's nests under your feet?"

"Lorelai, we are not going anywhere. I am here if it takes all night and golfball-sized hailstones start falling from the midnight sky. I'm your friend, remember? Start at engaged."

"Um…so…you remember I had a friend at the diner, Luke?

"Crabby guy who supplied your need for forty cups of coffee a day?"

"That would be Luke. We started dating, it was going well, we got engaged…"

"I would congratulate you, but I'm thinking I'd better wait."

"Yeah. We set the date for June 3rd last year, and about seven months before the wedding Luke found out he had a twelve year-old daughter."

"Wow."

Yeah, it was a double wow. For both of us. So obviously Luke panicked, and he needed space, and I said OK, we'll postpone the wedding. But it wasn't okay. He got really busy with April and he had no time for me. Yet apparently we had all the time in the world to get married."

"How long did he want to postpone it? Six months? A year?"

"He wouldn't even set another date. It was all just 'Wait' and 'I need time' and 'it'll be all over for me' if you get involved with April because 'she'll like you better. You're practically a cartoon character.' "

"Hang on a second. He said that?"

"Yeah, I think you can put little quote tags around that."

"But you told him off, right?"

"Uh…no, I told him nothing because I was scared, and then it all came out in the worst possible way at the worst possible time. I told him now or never, if you don't marry me now, it's over. And he just stood there and let me walk away from him."

"But obviously he went after you later, because there was a wedding."

"Uh…yeah, there was a wedding. Aimee, I walked away from Luke to Christopher's house. You remember Christopher. Ex-boyfriend Christopher, Rory's dad Christopher?"

"Gorgeous guy with a motorcycle Christopher?"

"Whoa. Did I miss something?"

"You remember, one time we were at your parents' house when Rory was about ten and Chris was there. I said "Can I have him?" and you said "Go ask him." And of course I didn't because it was obvious he only had eyes for you."

"And you may need Lasik, because there was absolutely nothing going on between me and Chris at that time."

"Honey, I know what I saw. That guy wasn't interested in anyone else but you. So what happened at Christopher's house? Is he married?"

"He was divorced."

"Ohh."

"And ah…and I was crying and he was really sweet, like he always is, and we slept together."

"Okay, back up a second. You slept together that night?"

"That night, ultimatum night. Now before you go all Judge Judy on me, I know it was wrong. It was one of the biggest mistakes of my life, and I told Chris so the next day."

"Lorelai, I'm not judging you. You said you were hurting for months. You just needed someone to be there for you for a little while. Okay, things went farther than they should have, but mistakes happen. You're human."

"Yeah...I need you to hold off the judgment for a little longer, because it gets worse."

"I am out of the jury box and all weapons are far away."

"So…Luke showed up at my house the next day and wanted to elope. He had everything all packed into his trunk, but in my head it was over and running away to get married couldn't solve anything, right?"

"Not unless you wanted to go to marriage counseling on your honeymoon."

"So I sent him away. And then of course Christopher wouldn't stop calling."

"Well, if I know you and Christopher, I'm guessing that night was more than just the obligatory fifteen minutes of fireworks in the local park on Independence Day."

"No, it was more like New Year's Day in Sydney, except completely unplanned."

"And for Chris that night probably brought back all kinds of old feelings, and he was ready to do anything to get another shot at being with you."

"You're sure you're not Christopher's psychologist? Because yes, he did everything he could to win me over. Romantic dates, movies, flowers, the whole package."

"Did it work?"

"It worked, to take my mind off Luke."

"Ohhh. He thought it was destiny and for you it was a distraction."

"Not a distraction, more of a...diversion. I mean it was fun, and Chris and I always get along, we have the same tastes and sense of humour and—it was going well. I just didn't ever plan to let it get serious."

"Why not?"

"Because…well, I mean, it wasn't…"

"You said you get along, he was in love with you, he was a gentleman. What more are you looking for, other than Cary Grant, I mean, and I read his obituary a couple decades ago. You wanted to get married, right?"

"I know, I know. Gosh, I know. Aimee, I married Chris."

"You married Chris?"

"Yes."

"And you left him."

"I didn't leave him. You make me sound like one of those women my mother develops allergies to. I just knew it wasn't going to work out, so I told him. And it hurt, a lot. I mean, I was crying enough to cause a statewide Kleenex shortage. But I had to do it."

"You had to end your marriage because of Chris, or because of Luke?"

"Why does everyone think it was Luke? My friends, my neighbours, Chris…is there a sign on my forehead saying, "I love Luke?" Because that might be a liability if there's ever another Luke in town and I meet his girlfriend."

"I didn't say you loved Luke."

"But it was strongly implied."

"All I meant was that Chris was a rebound. A major rebound. In fact, I think what happened between you and Chris could define rebound. When you lost Luke, you lost a fiancé and a friend. It would be unnatural if you weren't upset about it or didn't have regrets, even if Chris made you totally happy."

"Of course I had regrets. Luke had no clue how I really felt until I opened my big mouth and told him it was over if he didn't marry me right then and there. And then I ran straight to Christopher. What kind of a person would I be if I just left things like that and lived happily ever after with Chris?"

"How could you let yourself be happy with Christopher when you never even gave Luke a chance to fix things?"

"Yes, exactly. Okay, maybe you're right and that's partly why I had to end things with Chris. But…"

"So why did you go all the way to becoming Christopher's wife before you realized that?"

"I don't know. It was like, when a car crashes at 2 am in a whiteout, it's not gonna be just one car. One thing led to another thing and things just piled up. I didn't want to think, I didn't want to deal with all my mistakes."

"Maybe you were a little depressed? Nothing seemed to matter, you didn't really care about anything?"

"Maybe I was depressed. Maybe that's why I did such insane things last year. Do you want to officially diagnose me? Then I can hand the slip to my mom whenever she gives me one of those looks."

"No, I only give those slips to the truly insane. You're just slightly deranged."

"Thank you."

"So do you still feel down all the time?"

"No, right now I'm sort of halfway between Eeyore and Pollyanna. Which is an interesting perspective on the world. But thanks for being concerned."

"That's what friends are for."

"I mean, you're right, some of it was Luke. I tried to get back together with him after Chris and I—after we split up."

"And?"

"Have you ever seen a two-way street? Some cars going north, some cars going south, hopefully on opposite sides of the road?"

"I believe we're facing one."

"See, Luke and I tried to get back together, but I found out that Luke was going one way and I was going the other way. And we parked just long enough to tell each other we've forgiven each other. Luke is really over it."

"He sounds like a great guy."

"He is a great guy. And I'll tell that to the first lady who wants him next."

"So you don't want to get back together with Luke?"

"I thought I did, but I didn't. And he didn't, either. We both just wanted to hear that we didn't hate each other and we'd give each other a second chance. So we said it and we felt warm and fuzzy and…it was over. Luke has April, and I now have an extra two hundred pounds of emotional baggage. Luke and I don't have much in common. Actually, we were never really going in the same direction."

"And you're okay with that?"

"With not having a future with Luke? Yeah, I really am."

You're okay with not having a future with Christopher? Because you're separated, I guess it's pretty official and you're getting a divorce?"

"Chris and I were always the past anyway."

"Why just a past and no future? Why didn't you stay with Christopher after Rory was born, anyway?"

"I didn't think it was fair to ask him to be a dad when he wasn't ready."

"Yeah. Of course, you were having his child, which would kind of do away with your ability to give him a choice."

"I know, but—see, Chris and I had big plans when we were younger. He was going to graduate from Princeton and make enough money for us to get away from Hartford forever. We were going to have adventures, backpack across Europe. And then Rory came along kind of unexpectedly."

"So both of you should have unexpectedly given up your big plans."

"I didn't want both of us to be tied down when we wanted freedom."

"You got your freedom in Stars Hollow. Why couldn't Chris come with you?"

"Christopher…just wasn't ready to be a dad. We would have ended up fighting and hating each other. It would have been bad for Rory."

"And bad for your dream of the perfect family with Chris, huh? So it was easier just shutting Chris out."

"Look, I did not shut Chris out. I told him the door was open for him any time he wanted to come around and see his daughter."

"And you also told him to follow his dreams while you took care of Rory. How was he supposed to know which one you wanted—him in your life, or in California?"

"It was just more complicated than that. I did let him in, and he let me down. A few years ago, I thought Chris and I were going to get back together for sure. He had a 9-5 job, he had a Volvo, I could count on him to show up when I asked. I thought we could finally be a family. Turns out his girlfriend, who he was kinda-sorta-not-really broken up with, was pregnant."

"Oh, Lorelai. I'm sorry."

"No, that's life, right? Chris and I were a fantasy."

"Even when you were in your late 30s and all grown up? I mean, even back then he didn't know his ex-girlfriend was pregnant, did he? How was that Christopher's fault?"

"It's more than that. Um…when we were married, my dad had a heart attack and I tried to reach Chris for hours. But his cell phone was turned off because we'd had a fight."

"A tiff? A quarrel? Or an all-out war?"

"It was a stupid fight. Christopher thought I still loved Luke."

"I wonder why he'd think that."

"Maybe he was partly right, but my dad could have been dying, Aimee! I'm not blaming Christopher. Chris is who he is. He's funny and he's sweet and he can charm you into thinking you're the only woman in the world, but inside he's still a kid. I know he loves me, but I need more than love. I need someone who's there for me, someone who isn't going to bail on me when the water gets a little choppy or he meets up with something he can't handle. I need someone who's strong and solid and…a real man."

"And how do you know Chris isn't that guy? I mean, did you ever let him be strong for you? Did you ever tell him you needed him? No, of course you didn't, because you don't like being vulnerable and you wanted him to read your mind. But hon, I can tell you one thing: there isn't a single guy out there who is a mind reader."

"I didn't want Chris to read my mind. I guess I just wanted Christopher to be something he can't be, and now I know he can't be, and it's okay. We're friends."

"Why did you want Chris to be solid and dependable and all those things? I mean, you had them in Luke, right? He was there for you pretty much twenty-four-seven, three hundred and sixty five days of the year? He wasn't the type to turn off his cell phone after a fight, right?"

"Sure, but Nokia doesn't help much when you can't even communicate face to face."

"So, in other words, you didn't want a solid dependable guy. You wanted Chris to be that guy."

"He was my husband, I didn't really think being there for me should be like asking for a lunar eclipse."

"But Luke was a future husband too, right? Why Chris and not Luke?"

"I tend to be a very random person. I mean, maybe there's a little green man doing eeny-meeny-miney moe in my head."

"Or maybe you loved Chris."

"Of course I loved him. I went out with him in high school, we stayed friends, we have a child together."

"No, I'm saying that if Luke has all the qualities you say you want in a husband, but you don't want Luke, maybe it's because there's someone out there who's more compatible with you."

"Okay, there is a danger warning up ahead, I think we should turn back."

"Why? Because it's scary to admit you love your oldest friend, the father of your daughter and the man you married?"

"No. But if I love Chris, then I have yet another laundry list of mistakes to add to my life. Then I probably should not have married him before I got over what happened with Luke. And I probably should not have been so quick to assume that he couldn't support me. And I really shouldn't have ended our marriage without giving it a fair chance. So between you and me, this conversation never happened."

"Lorelai?"

"Yes."

"This conversation happened."

"I was afraid of that. I didn't want to put off my housecleaning for another day so I could I could lock myself in my room and cry, but now it looks like I might have to."

"Go talk to Chris."

"I can't talk to Chris. When it comes to marriage he probably thinks of me as just another evil ex-wife."

"You didn't ask for half a hundred million in child support and then throw water on the lawyer's head, did you? Tell your tale of woe on primetime TV wearing twenty layers of mascara?"

"Not death-to-my-husband evil. Just evil as in I probably broke his heart. Besides, Chris and I are better off friends."

"Okay. Why don't you want to make it work with Christopher?"

"The thing is, if I'm with Christopher long enough, and he lets me down, it might take the DSM-IV people years to sift through my four billion signs of mental distress."

"Of course Chris will let you down some time, he's not perfect."

"What if he lets me down with two kids and a broken furnace and bills to pay?"

"Why would Christopher abandon you? He's been madly in love with you for years!"

"If you asked my parents under oath, I'm sure they would claim to love me, but I'm still waiting for evidence."

"This all goes back to your parents, doesn't it? You were never sure they loved you, so you never figured out how to trust someone. You and Chris started dating when you were kids and you were the stronger one, so you think he's going to be the one who can't handle anything and leaves. Well, let me tell you, Christopher isn't a kid anymore. And if I read Christopher right, you are always going to be the one who pulls away first in your relationship. Then sure, Chris will back off because he doesn't know what you want, and you will hold up a card saying, "See, Christopher always leaves me!" But that, my friend, is no excuse."

"I can't tell Chris I love him. I told him that a hundred times when we are married and then a couple months later I told him it was over. I'm thinking the chances of him believing me now are about the same as Elizabeth Taylor's ninth marriage lasting."

"So don't tell Chris you love him."

"What then? Tell him my brain was abducted by aliens last year and they just now read Ann Landers and decided to return it?"

"Don't just tell Chris you love him. Show him."


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks later, giving her empty house a thorough housecleaning, Lorelai was thinking. Aimee had hit close to home. Far too close to home. Lorelai knew she loved Chris. She'd even known that when she was telling Chris their marriage was over. Once they went their separate ways, of course she'd still love him as an old friend and her daughter's father.

But the truth was, for years and years, her love for Chris had gone deeper than that. She compared every other man to him, even when she tried not to. Christopher was her first real friend, her first love, the first man she'd slept with, and her daughter's father. But most of all, he was the object of all her first romantic dreams. At fifteen, she'd been counting the months until she was old enough to run away with Chris from the cold and confined world of their parents. She'd travel the world with her lover and best friend, and eventually marry him. He'd be her husband and the bread-winner, and she was traditional enough to imagine that after their adventures she'd be happy to stay at home and take care of their children.

Then all of the sudden, she'd found out she was pregnant, and all her neatly laid plans fell apart. Lorelai knew right away that she had to grow up in a hurry in order to be a good mother for her child. And she also saw that Christopher was never going to get there as fast as she would. If they married now, the dream would never work out. Christopher was still a boy, sixteen and barely needing to shave. If he had to be a full-time dad, he'd do his best, but he'd be miserable and eventually he'd resent Lorelai for stealing his freedom. He might even leave her. Besides, no matter how responsible he tried to be, Chris wouldn't be able to provide for her and Rory. She loved Chris, but as soon as she found out about the baby, she couldn't help looking at him in a much harsher light. And she knew he didn't measure up.

So of course, Lorelai couldn't stay with Chris. She sent him away so that he could have a chance to see the world, be a teenager, have fun--and then grow up. Once Chris grew up enough, he could be the man of her dreams. He'd get a stable job and be able to provide for their family. He'd marry her not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Then the dream could come true.

In the meantime, she had Rory to raise. And after only a few years or raising Rory and struggling to make ends meet, Lorelai started to forget she ever had dreams bigger than financial ones. She couldn't imagine any man being mature enough and selfless enough to take on a headstrong single mom with a little girl. And as a matter of fact, she didn't mind. Lorelai was quite happy to keep Rory all to herself and do things her own way. All her life, she'd wanted two things: freedom, and her own way. She'd found both in Stars Hollow. A man would only complicate things, demand compromises she didn't have to make around Rory. Also, falling in love made you vulnerable and dependent. Lorelai was afraid of becoming either, because as you started trusting someone and letting them into your life, you could get hurt.

So Lorelai didn't spend Rory's childhood waiting around for a man or even really wanting one. Except for a few times every year.

Every time she saw Christopher again, he stirred up all kinds of emotions she'd thought she'd left long behind in adolescence. The longing to talk with another adult. The desire to have someone to come home to. Physical attraction. But most of all, whenever Chris entered a room, she felt the joy of being near someone who she'd known almost all her life. Someone who made her laugh and stimulated her mind, someone who challenged her with a hint of danger and at the same time brought a warmth that was old and familiar and deeply comforting. Someone so much a part of her, in ways both new and old, that even though they went months and months without seeing each other, Lorelai couldn't imagine losing him forever.

No matter how much she thought she was over him, after Christopher left Lorelai inevitably felt let-down, unsettled, and emotionally empty. Still, she always let him leave, because she knew in her heart that he wasn't what she needed. Not yet.

That little word "yet" stopped her from closing the door on Christopher for good. It stopped her from ever settling down with someone else. Until, of course, Christopher married Sherry and "not yet" turned into "never."

After almost twenty years, she should have known. She didn't know why she expected their up-and-down history to end any differently. Yet it took two years for her to fully let go of her hopes for Christopher, and to dare invest her emotions in another possibility.

Once she started dating Luke, though, it felt like all the stars had aligned. She'd always been afraid of compromise and giving up her independence, but here was a man who essentially gave her everything she wanted. She'd always been afraid of being vulnerable and getting hurt, but here was a man who was as safe as a man could possibly be—someone she'd been friends with for years, someone who wanted nothing more than to stay in the same town he'd lived in all his life. Someone who'd rarely challenge her, never leave her, definitely never let her down.

Of course, Luke had done just that…but that wasn't why their relationship had failed. Not really.

Lorelai thought back to what Aimee had said. "Why did you want Chris to be solid and dependable and all those things? I mean, you had them in Luke, right?"

Yes, she'd had them in Luke. But all those qualities weren't all she really wanted.

She missed Chris. And not because he was solid or strong or dependable. In fact, for a whole lot of his life, he'd demonstrated the opposite of these qualities.

Life would have been a whole lot easier if she'd hoped she could love Chris as an adult, and had married him only to find out she was wrong. But the truth was, her only doubt had been over whether Chris could be a good husband. She didn't need to find out whether she could love him. She already knew. No matter whether he was sixteen or thirty-two or forty, he was still Christopher. No matter how much time passed or how many things came between them, she always had and always would love Christopher.

She fingered the telephone, remembering Aimee's words. "Don't just tell Chris you love him. Show him."

Lorelai bit a fingernail. Did she dare contact Chris? How did she know that Chris could be reliable and stable and all those things that anyone needed in a husband? The truth was, despite Christopher's verbal pleas and the unspoken attraction she'd tried to wish away, Lorelai had made up her mind to move beyond Chris after the whole Sherry debacle. She'd spent almost two decades waiting, consciously or unconsciously, for Chris to grow up. She wanted to get married, to have a real family—a husband and children. Luke was there, stable and reliable and seemingly ready to marry her. Chris wasn't always there, and when he was, he'd never proved reliable.

Besides, she'd thought she'd given all her old feelings for Chris a thorough burial. Yet somehow, the night she'd slept with Chris, they'd resurfaced, ten times stronger than ever—along with a deep sense of guilt. Those old feelings for Chris had somehow swept her into a marriage with him before she thought better of it. Yet even when he was finally her husband, Lorelai was still convinced that Chris would never be the husband Luke could have been. No matter how happy they were together, eventually the other shoe would drop. One day, Chris wouldn't be there for her, and their relationship would fall apart.

And it seemed like that was exactly what had happened. Her father had been in the hospital, and her mother, her daughter, her daughter's boyfriend, and even Luke had been there to support her. Christopher had been far away.

But now, Aimee had sowed a seed of doubt in Lorelai's mind. Actually, it had been there all along, but for months she'd been too focused on Luke to pay attention to it.

For years, she'd been waiting for Chris to show some sign that he'd grown up enough to be her husband. But it was definitely possible that for years, Chris had been waiting for Lorelai to show some sign that she even wanted him.

Had Chris grown up? Had he been enough for her? She didn't know. She'd never bothered looking at him closely enough to find out. She'd assumed he was inferior husband material to Luke from the start.

Lorelai stared grimly at the phone. She could call Chris. But unfortunately, she had used up all her excuses for needing Chris in her life. Rory was grown, and Lorelai was financially stable and healthy. After years of friendship and romance with Luke, her house would be in no need of repairs for the foreseeable future, and even her parents acted like her father's heart attack was a thing of the ancient past.

And Lorelai had never been good at giving of herself when she had no guarantee she'd get anything back. She could offer her friendship and companionship to Chris, but she was no longer sure that was all she wanted. And she doubted Chris would ever again ask for more.

Lorelai twirled the telephone cord in her finger, deep in thought. Besides, she was still terrified of trusting Chris. Even if Chris had grown up, he could still let her down. Even Luke had let her down.

Five minutes passed, then ten. After fifteen minutes, Lorelai finally picked up the phone.


	5. Chapter 5

Christopher was sitting at his desk in his apartment, sorting mail and filing bills. The apartment was quiet, except for the soft noise of the TV as Gigi watched yet another hour of children's programming. He felt guilty. Gigi should be doing something other than sitting mindlessly in front of the TV. He should be playing with her, taking her to the park, reading to her, stimulating her mind. Instead he had this paperwork to finish. Single parenthood certainly had some serious drawbacks, one of which was never being able to devote your full attention to your child. Ever since Sherry had left him, Chris had a far deeper appreciation of what Lorelai had done by raising Rory alone all those years. If he could go back, he would have…

But his mind lingered on the recent past without traveling back any further. He generally tried not to think about the past year—kept himself too busy to dwell on it.

But tonight, the thoughts were insistent: he'd only been able to keep them in the back of his mind for so long before they fought their way to the top again.

Chris put down his pencil and shook his head. He would never have believed it if someone had told him. After twenty years, he had finally married his high school sweetheart, the mother of his child, and within two months, they'd separated.

He'd been both devastated and ashamed. He felt like he'd coerced the woman he loved into marrying him. He had never dreamed of doing such a thing. But apparently he had. She had told him through tears: "You've always been this possibility…this wonderful possibility. But it's just not right. You're the man I want to want."

Those were words Christopher never thought he'd hear from Lorelai. He wanted to forget them, but the harder he tried, the deeper they burnt themselves into his mind. He'd seen Lorelai through their first day of elementary school, their first day of junior high and high school. He'd seen her when she was wearing pigtails, when she'd tried to dye her hair auburn as a shortlived experiment, when she'd worn makeup for the first time. They'd gone to each other's houses after school, suffered through the same upper-class functions, secretly mocked their parents' stuffy world in the privacy of Lorelai's balcony. There they'd gazed at stars, gossiped, shared secrets, laughed, even cried a little. And by the time they were fifteen, they'd shared everything two people could share. It might not have been the wisest decision, but in some ways it had been inevitable.

Lorelai had been his girlfriend and lover, yes: but long before that, she'd been his best friend. And no matter how far away they were from each other or how much time passed without them seeing each other, every time they spoke again, their minds connected instantly, a network of shared memories and shared likes and dislikes binding them together. Christopher had never counted on Lorelai as a lover—especially not since Sherry, and especially not since his disastrous attempt, at her parents' vow renewal, to let Lorelai know that he was still available. But he'd always counted on Lorelai to be there as a friend. And as a friend, she'd never really let him down.

So Lorelai's rejection of him as a husband left him reeling. She'd known how hard the divorce from Sherry had hit him—and he hadn't even felt about Sherry the way he felt about Lorelai. Yet only two months after their marriage, Lorelai herself broke off their relationship.

At first, Christopher had convinced himself he'd been wrong for twenty years—that he'd imagined the depth of the bond he shared with Lorelai. Perhaps he'd carried a boy's love into adulthood, trying to keep the flame warm long after it had really died.

But after everything, when he thought about the past few months critically, he didn't think he'd completely played the fool. He might have been clinging to some unrealistic teenage dreams, but he wasn't holding on all that tightly. He knew he'd been irresponsible in the past, and he'd known he needed to step up to the plate. Christopher figured his biggest mistake had been to trust Lorelai. He had to admit, he had purposely ignored some of the warning signs. He had wanted to believe she was over Luke and he had wanted to believe that she was as happy as he was.

But she hadn't been over Luke. Chris couldn't for the life of him fathom why Lorelai loved Luke, since it was impossible for him to imagine Luke understanding a fraction of Lorelai's references or laughing at the type of inside jokes Chris and Lorelai shared. When he tried to imagine himself, Lorelai and Luke together, Christopher couldn't help but see Luke as the odd one out, even if all three were interacting purely as friends. Luke was simply too different. Chris figured Lorelai had placed Luke high on a pedestal. She'd been a single mom, needy and lonely, and Luke had given her the support and protection she craved. Chris had cared about Lorelai's welfare far more than the wagging tongues of the town believed. But he had to admit he could never serve her as devotedly as Luke had. He wondered how long it would take for Lorelai to grow up, to have the courage to take risks in a relationship and give herself to someone not who anticipated her every need, but someone as flawed as herself.

He wasn't completely surprised when Rory told him Lorelai and Luke had returned from their boat trip no longer a couple. "They're not mad at each other, they don't hate each other or anything," Rory had said tentatively, obviously unsure about how much she should say. "They're still friends. I don't really know what happened."

After debating the issue in his mind for a while, Chris finally dared to ask who she thought had broken the relationship off. Rory had paused for a while, then sighed. "I don't know. I don't really ask Mom about her relationships anymore. All I know is what she told me. She said it was a mutual decision. She and Luke both really wanted to get back together at first, but apparently when they were on the boat neither of them spent much time together. Luke and April got really close last year and Mom said she realized Luke and April had more in common than she and Luke ever had.

"I don't think they really thought about what they were going to do once they were back together, you know? I guess they saw that the amount of work that was going to be involved in dealing with their problems just wasn't going to be worth it. But it seems like they parted on good terms. But hey, all this stuff is just my guess. I don't know much more than the next guy."

"Yeah," Christopher had said. "I can't say all this stuff totally surprises me."

Rory's tone became wary. "Hey dad, you take care of yourself, okay? You focus on getting your life back together and working and taking care of Gigi and just—hang in there. Tell Gigi I miss her."

Christopher knew what Rory was thinking—that he would go after Lorelai again and one of them would break the other's heart. But he had no interest in doing that. Did he still love her? He didn't know. As a friend, he would always love her. But he had no interest in being married to her again. All the adoration he'd used to feel for Lorelai had completely vanished. In fact, after the dust settled, he'd come pretty close to hating the woman who'd once been his best friend.

If she wasn't in love with him anymore, maybe she couldn't help it, but she could have told him so in France when he proposed, instead of waiting until he thought he'd married her for life. In fact, she could have chosen not to date him. And she certainly could have chosen not to come to him or sleep with him that night she'd broken up with Luke. Yes, he'd been a persistent suitor, but he had every reason to be. They'd wasted twenty years because of immaturity, mixed messages, and plain bad luck. It wasn't until after Sherry left him that Chris realized that he didn't want to share his life with anyone but Lorelai, ever. And he'd realized the intensity of his feelings for Lorelai too late. Once Lorelai rejected him at her parents' vow renewal, Christopher had put aside all hopes of ever being with her again. Hearing about Lorelai and Luke's engagement was the final nail in the coffin. Chris had had twenty years and countless chances, and he'd blown all of them.

Then, that night—after he'd seen her at her parents' house, while he'd still been thinking about her—Lorelai had come to him. Lorelai never came to him. She barely even called him. They'd always been seemingly thrown together by fate and the bond they'd shared with Rory. But that night, Lorelai had gone to him; and Chris thought her words and her touch were her way of telling him that she'd found out what he already knew: they'd never find anyone else who matched them as well as they matched each other.

This was their last chance, and it was a perfect chance. There was no one and nothing standing in their way, and they were finally two adults on the same footing, with the same feelings they'd always had, and with the maturity—finally—to turn those feelings into a relationship that would last forever.

Or so Christopher had thought. As it turned out, Lorelai's feelings had been for another man. Apparently, Chris had been something less than even the consolation prize. Yet as badly as the breakdown of his marriage hurt, as misguided as he felt he'd been, Chris couldn't help feeling that Lorelai was mistaken, too. She had real feelings for Luke: he didn't doubt that. But did she and Luke really have what they needed to forge a lifelong bond? Why did she think Luke was the be-all and end-all?

Chris couldn't help feeling the smallest twinge of triumph when he heard that Lorelai was, once again, single. And a few weeks after Rory's phone call, Chris learned that Luke was moving to New Mexico to be with April. Once again, the whole town was in an uproar, just as they'd been when they'd discovered Lorelai and Luke had broken up again, this time for good. And once again, Christopher was less surprised than they were. Luke might have spent his whole life in the town, but as far as Chris could tell, he'd basically been a hermit until he'd met Lorelai. Now that he didn't have a future with Lorelai to plan for, the most significant relationship in Luke's life must have been the one with his daughter.

It hardly surprised Christopher that Luke wanted to spend as much time as possible with April.

Chris himself was now devoting every spare minute to cultivating his badly neglected relationship with his eldest daughter. At the beginning of the summer, when he'd rented an apartment in Illinois because of business there, Chris had invited Rory to stay with him, since she would be based there for a while during her coverage of Obama's campaign. Rory had accepted, and Chris had been surprised at how well they had gotten along, how much he seemed to learn about her every day. Rory certainly appeared brighter and more academically talented than he had ever been; but as he'd grown older, Christopher had developed a greater interest in current affairs than he had as a boy. He listened to her discussion of politics and journalism with real interest, and they both discovered that not only did they share similar opinions, but a similar sense of humour. And to Rory's delight, her dad was just about as quick at verbal banter as her mom, and as chock-full of random cultural references. In some ways, every step closer to Rory made Chris regret the wasted years more; but in other ways, it made him more determined to savor every day they had together.

Christopher was jolted out of his reverie by the fact that the phone at his elbow was ringing. He grinned, thinking that he'd been thinking about Rory, and here she was probably calling him. He glanced at the call display on the screen and paused. It was Lorelai's number.

He'd been thinking about Lorelai, too—a lot. But he hadn't expected her to be calling him. He and Lorelai had seen each other once, at Rory's graduation, since their separation, and things between them had been quite friendly—on the surface. Chris wasn't sure quite what was below the surface, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Still, he barely hesitated before picking up the phone. He wasn't ever going to block one of Lorelai's phone calls again, intentionally or unintentionally. Besides, it could be something about Rory.


	6. Chapter 6

Lorelai gripped the phone tightly, her palms slightly damp.

One ring. Two. Then…

"Hello, Christopher here."

She hadn't expected him to answer on the second ring. Nor had she expected to feel suddenly warm, or to feel her heart beating in her throat.

"Hi, Chris, it's me."

"Hi, Lor."

There was silence. It was a cliché, but she could hear at least three separate crickets in different corners of her house.

"Uh…so…I just thought I'd call to see how things are with you, with Gigi, you know…and how it's going now that school's out."

"It's going well, all things considered. I'm still trying to work out a way to explain to Gigi that even though she doesn't have school in the morning, she's not quite ready to stay up and watch Rick Sanchez talk about the subprime mortgage crisis and peak oil."

"I could call your house with my Darth Vader voice and tell her I was Mr. Sandman come looking for little girls who were up past their bedtime. It always worked for Rory."

"You were a hard mother."

"But I raised a girl who got sleepy every night at eight-thirty. Until she went to college, where they discover Red Bull and all-nighters."

Chris chuckled. "I think I'll keep Gigi away from that stuff."

There was another awkward silence. Lorelai thought she discerned a fourth cricket.

Chris cleared his throat. "So…how are you?"

"I'm…good. Good. Sometimes I feel like I can hear the furniture without Rory here. But it shouldn't feel like that, because she's been practically gone for years. But it's psychological, you know? It's like when you're a little kid with a babysitter. As long as you think your mom is in the next room, you're fine, but as soon as you realize she's not in the house, you feel like the world's ending. Not that Rory being gone is literally a worldwide catastrophe."

"But it feels like it. I know. She was here for six weeks."

"Right. Did it go okay? I mean because much as I miss her, she does have one or two annoying habits. Like, she always has to flatten a tube of toothpaste completely before opening a new one. You don't waste toothpaste that way, but you do waste time."

"There were no toothpaste complaints. It was good. She's got your brain, your verbal ability, your sense of humour. She's all you, Lor."

"Really? 'Cause I thought you and I actually had a kind of 50-50 thing going on. At least that's what I gathered from biology class."

There was a silence of about two seconds, which was longer than Lorelai was comfortable with.

"Not that I ever paid more than 50 percent attention."

"No, I'll take your word for it."

There was another pause. Lorelai thought it was three seconds this time. Chris spoke again.

"So, ah, was there any particular reason you called?

"Um, no, no, just calling to say hi. Hi, by the way."

"Hi."

"And I just thought that since we have this 50-50 thing with Rory, and now she's grown up and traveling the country, maybe we could share the worrying and the waiting for e-mails and the stuff parents do when their kids aren't kids anymore."

"Anytime you need a worrying partner, you can give me a call."

"Okay, yeah, and if you ever feel like doing the same thing, you know my number."

"I do. Listen, I hear Gigi in the background. I think I'd better…"

"Okay, right, it must be getting close to…"

"I think I'd better start the bedtime rituals."

"Okay, you do that."

"Goodnight, Lor."

"Goodnight, Chris."

Lorelai hung up the phone and felt the moisture sting her eyes. She blinked. That must have been one of the most awkward conversations with Chris that she'd ever had in her life. There was definitely a tension between them that hadn't been there before. Not, she had to admit, the same degree of tension that had hung over herself and Luke the first time she'd come into the diner after their break-up. But then, Lorelai had since come to realize that there'd always been more tension between herself and Luke than there had been between herself and Christopher.

Still, she and Chris—their conversations used to flow effortlessly. This one had kept getting log-jammed.

Lorelai leaned back into the couch with a wan half-smile. Of course, what did she expect? They'd been married and had separated. Of course their relationship was going to have some strain in it. Why did she think it would be cozy and comfortable, the way it always had?

Maybe because it had felt that way at Rory's graduation. Then again, she and Chris had been surrounded by people most of the time. They had hardly any chance to interact without anyone else around. It was the one-on-one conversation that was more dangerous…because it had once been so easy.

Lorelai curled up in the couch. She'd probably been right after all when she said that Chris thought of her as the evil ex-wife. She had just hoped she wasn't.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note:_ Just in response to some of the reviews thus far...if you don't like Chris and Lorelai together (or can't at least be open to the possibility), you probably shouldn't be reading this fic. As what I've written so far suggests, it is primarily about Christopher and Lorelai. Also, I'm well aware that the GG writers had no intention of putting Chris and Lorelai back together after Season 7. This is an alternative interpretation...that's why it's a fanfic!

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Lorelai was up fairly early one Saturday morning near the end of August, rearranging the furniture in her house again. She'd been rearranging furniture quite frequently since she'd returned from the boat trip, when she'd decided to go on a housecleaning spree. Somehow, though, she was never satisfied with the results. She had turned the couch at various angles, removed all the pictures from the living room and brought in new ones to replace them, and switched around every piece of furniture in her bedroom…including her bed. But for some reason, the house hadn't felt like a home since she'd returned from the trip. Something indefinable seemed to have been added, removed or switched around. Lorelai figured that the unsettled feeling came from either the number of life-altering events that had she had experienced over the past year, or the fact that Rory had left home for good. Whatever caused the feeling, no amount of housekeeping had been able to make her feel more at home in her own house: but Lorelai was nothing if not stubborn.

This morning, wide awake after two and a half cups of coffee—even though it was early for a weekend—Lorelai was looking at the walls of the kitchen intently and wondering if a fresh coat of paint would make the room appear brighter and more alive than seemed to her now. Squinting closely, Lorelai noticed a strand of spiderweb between the tops of the cupboards and the ceiling. Actually, it was more than a strand: it was an entire web. And there wasn't only one. Taking a chair and a damp cloth, Lorelai began scrubbing the ceiling and walls. She was still scrubbing ten minutes later when the phone rang.

The sound was jarring, yet somehow a welcome noise in the empty house. Lorelai climbed down from the chair, glancing at the call display as she picked up the phone.

It was Christopher's number.

It had been more than two weeks since she had called Christopher and hinted that he could call her back whenever he wanted—to talk about Rory, of course, because they were the only two parents Rory had. But Christopher had never called her. And Lorelai had to admit that she knew why he might not want to. But almost always in the past, when she'd called Christopher or come to him, he'd responded. Whenever she'd opened the door a little wider, Christopher had always come a little closer. Maybe now he was taking her up on her offer of an occasional friendly conversation?

"Hello," she said, her heart pounding faster and her hands trembling slightly.

"Hi, Lor."

She didn't notice that his voice sounded noticeably hesitant, nor did she realize her knees were trembling slightly.

"Hi," she said, her voice reverting to its girlish timbre.

"How are you?"

"I'm—good." A smile was creeping over Lorelai's face as she suddenly realized that Chris hadn't announced himself. Like he'd always used to, Chris had simply used the shortened version of her name, which no one but he used regularly. He knew she'd recognize him this way, even if she didn't know his voice instantly.

Then, like a cold dousing of water, Lorelai remembered that Christopher knew she had call display—knew quite well, in fact, since he'd lived in her house for two months.

Christopher was speaking. "I would have called later in the morning, but Gigi wanted me to call as soon as I could."

"You're calling for Gigi?"

"Yeah, I'm her honorary receptionist. She's been at summer camp for a week and they're having an end-of-camp drama on Friday, and Gigi's got the lead part."

"Lead part?"

"So she tells me."

"Wow. You may have the next Shirley Temple in your apartment. Well, she's cute enough."

Chris chuckled. "She is. So, at camp they've been telling the kids for weeks that the final program is for parents and relatives. Gigi wanted her grandma to come, but her grandma's been laid up with a broken leg since Monday."

"Your mom broke her leg?"

He sounded amused. "Yeah, it's a long story."

"But sounds like a good one."

"You have time?"

"For this, I have time."

"Well, my mom likes to look her best, as you probably know—"

"As does my mother."

"And she insists on wearing heels that are three inches high because she wants to be taller than Mrs. Warford, who is her lifelong archrival—"

"Lifelong, sounds dangerous."

"Since kindergarten. I believe it was a dispute over who would clap the erasers. Either that, or the boy with greased back hair in the third row."

"Wow, and I always thought the years before five was just a slogan to make parents feel guilty."

"Apparently not. So my mother goes out to her museum board meeting wearing these three and a half inch stiletto heels. I tell her not to wear them, she doesn't listen to me, gets her heel caught in the crack of the second last front step and goes down."

"Oh…was it bad?"

"Her pride may not recover."

"I hope her leg got a better prognosis."

"It'll mend, but the doctor told her to stay off it completely for at least a week. And I don't think she wants to suffer the indignity of appearing out in public in crutches."

"So she can't come to Gigi's play."

"No. Gigi was pretty disappointed."

"I'll bet."

"Then she thought of you. Her mom's on the other side of the Atlantic and I guess most of the other kids will have a mom there. And she thinks you're pretty amazing, Lor."

"Tell her I think she's amazing back ten times over."

"Can you come? It's on Friday afternoon at 7 and the whole thing probably won't be more than an hour and a half."

"I can come."

"You're sure? If it's inconvenient just say so."

"No, I can come. Tell her I'll be there with bells on and a ring in my nose."

"If that doesn't get her mind off stage fright, I don't know what will."

"I'll see you on Friday at 7?"

"I will be there."

"Okay." Chris cleared his throat. "I'll see you then."

Lorelai stood in the kitchen, holding the phone, her heart still pounding a little faster. She'd almost been afraid Chris wouldn't ever call her back—almost. She really wasn't been sure what she would have done if he hadn't. She had been the one who had ended their marriage: she had far too much pride to go begging at Christopher's door asking him to at least still stay in touch with her from time to time.

But of course, he had finally called. Chris had said he'd been calling for Gigi, but it couldn't really have been Gigi who instigated the call, could it? Lorelai assumed Gigi was just a pretext for Chris to call her, even see her. He had sounded uncomfortable. Of course, he was unsure about seeing Lorelai again, of course he might be uncertain of how far to re-establish their relationship—of course he might be hesitant about trusting her. But surely if she showed him how much she'd changed since last year, when she'd been sleepwalking through life–Chris would still be Christopher.

Then again, he wouldn't lie about his mother breaking her leg…and Sherry certainly wouldn't be at Gigi's play…but would Gigi really…?

Lorelai stood motionless for a moment, a little stunned. She had barely ever thought of Gigi's reaction to her separation from Chris. Yes, Lorelai had been a near-constant presence in Gigi's life for several months, and her new stepmother for a couple of those months, but Gigi was young. She couldn't have grown terribly attached, and when she and Chris had separated, Lorelai had thought vaguely that it wasn't as though she was running off to Paris like Sherry: she'd still see Gigi from time to time.

As it turned out, she hadn't seen Gigi once since Christopher had moved out of the house. In fact, not since a few nights before that.

Was it possible that Gigi had become more attached than she knew, and Chris was calling for his daughter's sake and not at all for his own? Maybe he hadn't really wanted to call Lorelai at all?

Lorelai decided she wouldn't think about that possibility. To tell the truth, she was relieved just to be seeing Christopher again, on any terms. And even if Christopher really had called for Gigi, Lorelai was starting to feel enough twinges of guilt that seeing the play seemed like the least she could do. She wouldn't even think about the fact that Christopher was going to be there. Picking up her cleaning rag again, she wondered what she should wear.


	8. Chapter 8

The evening of Gigi's play arrived, and Christopher met Lorelai in the parking lot. Even though she'd pictured his face more times in the last few days than she would care to admit, even though she had heard his voice on the telephone several times, nothing had quite prepared Lorelai for seeing Christopher face to face again. She hadn't seen Christopher since Rory's graduation, several months ago. And somehow she never remembered exactly what it felt like to be near Christopher until he was actually there, beside her. It was a heady feeling. She had forgotten how handsome he was.

Christopher looked a little uncertain as he approached her, but then he grinned. Lorelai had also forgotten what a dazzling smile Chris had.

"I see you forgot the bells and the nose ring," he said, his forehead wrinkled in mock concern. "I don't know how I'm going to break it to Gigi."

"You think I have time to run and hide?"

Chris glanced behind him at Gigi, clambering carefully out of the car in her fairy godmother costume. "I'm not sure that's going to be an option."

Lorelai smiled slightly, and Chris smiled back. For a few seconds they stood there, sensing the silence. They'd met each other after an absence many, many times. And every time they did, it always felt the same--friendly, familiar, and yet somehow charged with a tingle of excitement. Yet this time, Christopher looked distinctly uncomfortable. After the first second or two, he seemed more interested in the elm trees running alongside the parking lot, than he was in her face. Lorelai realized that as familiar as this meeting felt, there was also an invisible wall between them.

Gigi, trotting up behind Chris in her fairy godmother costume, recognized no such walls, running to Lorelai for a hug. Apparently divorce and separation weren't words in a five year-old's vocabulary. Lorelai felt guilty, remembering that for a little while, she had been a second mother to Gigi—and had barely even realized it. Christopher wasn't the only one who had made some serious parental mistakes. Lorelai hoped that she was making up for her mistakes, just a little, by being there for Gigi today.

Gigi was certainly centre stage, both literally and figuratively, for the rest of the evening. Lorelai sat beside Chris and laughed and clapped throughout the whole play, but especially when Gigi made an appearance. Gigi, granting people's wishes with a twitch of her wand, pronounced every word precisely and only stumbled over one line. Lorelai was proud, all the more so because she knew Chris was proud. It was comfortable sitting beside Chris. Comfortable enough that sometimes she'd look over at him, taking in his eager face. And then she'd quickly look back, remembering that her eyes weren't supposed to be on anything other than the stage.

Afterwards, she watched the parents congratulate Christopher, and endured with embarrassment the repeated question: "Are you with Christopher?" or listened to Chris introduce her: "This is Lorelai. She's an old friend."

_An old friend._ Lorelai felt smaller and more unreasonably irritated with every new person who approached Christopher and made a comment—or forced him to give _that_ introduction. She wasn't sure if it would have been more or less painful to be called Christopher's wife. Certainly, that statement would have hurt, because as much as it was completely wrong, it was also completely true. But it almost hurt more to realize that everyone here, apparently having met Christopher when he picked Gigi up at camp each afternoon, considered him a single dad. Lorelai was Christopher's oldest friend, the mother of his oldest daughter, and had even been his wife for an admittedly short time—yet she had obviously never even come up in conversation.

Of course she hadn't: Lorelai knew very well that Chris would never have mentioned her. And yet, it was very unpleasant to feel invisible.

Resigned to being nothing more than an unobtrusive bystander, Lorelai watched Chris congratulate the other parents. All the while, he kept Gigi firmly beside him. Gigi grew impatient, squirmed, fiddled, and began trying to get Christopher's attention while he stood talking to other adults. Finally he turned to her and silenced her with one word and a look. Afterwards, Gigi stayed quiet, looking mostly at the ground, while Chris praised the parents of little actors and actresses who—at least in Lorelai's mind—hadn't performed half as well as Gigi.

Lorelai hovered in the background, watching Christopher's conversations and trying not to look out of place. For a while she was uncomfortable; but gradually her attention was distracted by a series of thoughts. She was having a moment of realization.

Chris was grown up. Completely. He held his own in conversation with the other adults, and most impressively, he kept Gigi in line better than many of the other parents did their own children. Actually, some of the other adults were nodding respectfully as Chris talked. And even though Lorelai tried very hard not to notice, there were more than a few single moms around who were noticing Chris approvingly. Only after quite a few minutes did Lorelai realize, to her embarrassment, that she was one of them.

She hoped Christopher didn't notice that she was looking at him like—well, like a wife; because that was exactly what she'd told him she didn't want to be anymore. And she certainly didn't want him to think that she had any claim on him anymore, because—she didn't.

Still, she hoped he wasn't noticing any of those other women. Enough so that when two of them approached him, Lorelai—standing a few feet behind Chris at the punch bowl—began shifting her feet impatiently, clearing her throat, and tapping her toes. Nothing distracted Chris even for a second from his conversation. Finally, Lorelai's violent bending and twisting of her punch cup allowed it to slip from her hands. Dropping the cup on the floor was accidental…almost: but Chris turned to notice, and the eyes of two other women at Chris' side followed suit, looking surprised.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Lorelai said. "I have this nervous twitch in my leg from time to time. It's usually when the moon is full or I'm standing too long. Or maybe it's my macrophobia acting up again. So I'll just go find some little corner where I can sit and avoid being stepped on."

Chris stepped aside. "Give me thirty seconds to be polite and you and Gigi can both be out of here."

"Oh, no, Chris, I wasn't trying…"

"I read the latest _Reader's Digest_. Twenty."

Lorelai decided not to say anything, and watched Chris go over and make apologies to the ladies, saying he really should have been gone a long time ago.

"Oh, certainly," said one of the women. "We had no idea you were with…"

Chris gave them a tightlipped, yet charming smile. "I'll see you the first day of school, ladies."

They twittered their goodbyes. Lorelai, rubbing her leg pointedly, pretended not to notice the odd looks they cast in her direction.

Ten minutes later, all three of them were in Christopher's car, Lorelai having agreed very willingly to join Chris and Gigi for ice cream a couple of miles away. For a while, Gigi chattered: then there was a lull.

"How's the twitch?" Chris asked, watching the road.

"I think it's about ninety-seven percent gone."

"I have twitches in my brain sometimes," Gigi piped up solemnly from the back seat. "Usually when my teacher asks me a question I don't know."

"Yes, but this one was a leg twitch," Lorelai responded. "They're a different breed. Don't ever get a leg twitch, Gigi."

"Let's hope the other three percent doesn't come back to haunt us over ice cream," Chris said.

"I'll tell it to behave."

* * *

After putting Gigi to bed, much later than usual--they'd come home late and it had taken Gigi an hour to even begin calming down from the excitement, praise, and ice cream--Chris settled back in the couch to watch the news. The images flickered across the screen, but Chris didn't see them. He was thinking about Lorelai. She was good with Gigi: Gigi adored her. Of course she did, because she didn't have any other mother figure in her life. He wouldn't have called Lorelai at all if it hadn't been for Gigi--if his daughter hadn't kept asking, "What about Lorelai? Can't she come, Daddy?"

He would call Lorelai for Gigi, but Chris had never had much intention of calling her for his own sake. Not only was he tired of asking to be let into Lorelai's life, or of being allowed in only to be shut out again; but he also had little interest in letting their relationship ever again get closer than that of amicably divorced parents. As much as he'd genuinely enjoyed her company this evening, Chris had come to believe that with Lorelai, there were no guarantees. Gigi looked up to Lorelai; Lorelai was sweet with Gigi. But how far was he willing to let Lorelai back into Gigi's life?

Maybe he wasn't only thinking about Gigi. Chris knew exactly what Lorelai had been up to tonight. Clearing her throat, dropping her cup, muttering the name of some kind of phobia--all as soon as those two single women had come up to him. Chris had checked his _Reader's Digest_ when he'd come home, just to be sure. _Macrophobia_: fear of long waits. Chris chuckled in spite of himself. It had been somewhat funny. It was very typical Lorelai.

And yet, on the other hand, Chris resented what she'd done. After two months of marriage, Lorelai had made it very clear that she'd tried to be happy with Chris and had found him wanting. He'd given her the freedom she asked for. So what right did she have to act as though Christopher was still her property?

Was Lorelai going to be one of those ex-wives who didn't want him, but wanted to keep him from anyone else? It wouldn't surprise Chris in the least. Sometimes he thought she'd been more interested in him when he'd started dating Sherry, than at any time when he'd been single. Or was it possible that Lorelai wanted him back? Chris realized he also wouldn't be particularly surprised if she did, at least on some level. Yes, initially he'd thought Lorelai was right—for some unforeseen reason, the dream they'd had of being together simply didn't hold up in reality. But after a little more time had passed, Chris had begun to give his intuition a little more credit. He knew Lorelai very well. He knew he hadn't imagined how happy she'd seemed when she was dating him. And he'd never really understood Lorelai's reasons for rejecting him, other than the one about Luke. Since she'd apparently decided she didn't want Luke--for good, since she hadn't gone chasing after him to New Mexico--it wouldn't really surprise Chris if Lorelai was having second thoughts about them. But how long would those last? Until a new man caught her eye?

Chris felt tired. After their separation, he'd forced himself to accept the prospect of living a life without Lorelai—barring the extent to which he'd always be tied to her as his daughter's mother. Chris had moved from disbelief, to pain, to an eventual sense of closure. At least now he could move on from Lorelai, knowing that they'd really had a chance together, knowing that he'd proved he could settle down and be a family man, knowing that he'd done everything he could to win her. At least he would never again wonder..."what if". Maybe he'd been blind to all kinds of wonderful women in the world because he'd only had eyes for Lorelai.

But now, just when he'd been ready to leave Lorelai behind as a long but finally closed chapter in his life—now, because of Gigi, because of Lorelai, because fate always seemed to throw them together somehow--he was forced to revisit a part of his life he really thought he had finished. Chris sighed. One side of him wished he could cut ties with Lorelai completely so he could move on, a new man, without giving another backwards look at the past. The other side, which he hadn't thought existed anymore, was struggling with feelings that were far too unwished-for and blatantly unreasonable—given all his experiences with Lorelai over the past year—to unravel at this late hour.

In fact, he planned to go to bed without unraveling them at all; because no matter where his feelings led, Chris had learned enough to know that any attempt to act on them would be the most futile decision of his life.


	9. Chapter 9

"Mom, don't you think it should be illegal for houses to be half a mile away from the road?" asked Lorelai as they trudged up the endlessly long, balloon-festooned driveway of the Boyers' mansion.

"It's not half a mile, Lorelai. This is what sensible people do when they don't want their homes exposed to traffic."

"Well at least they could have their big circular parking lots moved a little closer to the house. What's the point of having a driveway if you can't drive down it?"

"We're not about to block a driveway when a hundred other guests are attending!"

"Oh, of course not, because we are the people and wisdom dies with us."

"Lorelai, you've been so good this past week. I thought you were finally turning over a new leaf.

"I'm not your Venus flytrap, Mom. It's not like you can just give me a little fertilizer and I'll start sprouting leaves that look like something out of Jurassic Park."

"All I ask is that you be polite for two or three hours. Goodness, I wish Richard hadn't had that charity auction to attend. He would have been a much less difficult guest."

"You should be thankful the only child of your heart agreed to accompany you to a party for people she hasn't seen since she was twelve."

"I told you in the car that I was grateful."

"So there's old Mrs. Boyer, middle-aged Mrs. Boyer, and Miss Boyer. Hey, can I be Goldilocks and call them the three Boyers?"

"You can call them whatever you like as long as it's their own names."

"That should shake things up."

Emily had barely rung the doorbell when a maid opened the door.

"Hello, Nina. This is my daughter Lorelai."

They were shown into the reception room, where scores of people milled about, talking and laughing. Large as it was, the room clearly hadn't been designed for so many guests. The volume was nearly deafening.

"There's a lot of people here," Lorelai commented.

"Well, of course, Lorelai. A ninetieth birthday celebration is a once in a lifetime occasion."

"Hey, you're right, I should really start celebrating my ninetieth birthday now. Because I only get to have the party once and by the time I get to ninety I'm going to be too senile to enjoy it."

"Lorelai, if you don't want people to think you've acquired senile dementia before your time, be serious for a few seconds."

"Mom, eating chocolate-covered hazelnuts with dentures is no laughing matter."

"Thanks to my dedication, you saw the dentist every six months until you were sixteen. All your teeth are still perfectly capable of sampling these elegant confections. I wonder which of Marjorie's cooks created these?"

"How long have you known these people, Mom?"

"Forty years. Forty-five if you count the years Marjorie was an acquaintance of your father's while he was dating me. Why?"

"I just want to make sure you trust them and they're not going to put arsenic in the brownies. "

"Lorelai!"

"Hey, they did it to Napoleon. Do any of the people here moonlight as a British spy?"

"I'll have you know that two-thirds of the women here are Daughters of the American Revolution."

"Well, a British spy wouldn't pose as a card-carrying member of the House of Lords, would he?"

"Is that Christopher?"

"Christopher? Oh, don't tell me you picked now to try magic mushrooms, Mom. Christopher doesn't like these functions. Christopher would rather be attacked by a hungry bear than spend an entire afternoon with the Boyers."

"Lorelai, Christopher is walking through the door."

Lorelai turned, and thought her heart had stopped beating. Christopher was indeed walking into the reception room, and right behind him was a woman…a very beautiful young woman dressed in an elegant dark red dress that, because it would be unforgiving on almost any other woman, proved the flawlessness of her figure.

"Who is that woman, Lorelai?"

Lorelai was trying to catch her breath.

"Lorelai?"

"I don't know, Mom."

"Well, is Christopher seeing someone?"

"He does have two eyes to see with."

"Does Christopher have a girlfriend?"

"Um, I don't know, I don't have Christopher's daybook. We're separated. Did you know who Dad was seeing when you were separated?"

"Yes, since were still legally married I considered it a matter of personal interest to know everything about Richard's doings, whether or not he knew I knew."

"And Gossip Girl is revealed."

"We should go over so he can introduce us."

"Mom."

"Come along, Lorelai."

"Mother, really, I think I'll…"

But it was too late to back away, because Christopher had seen them. His eyes had widened and he had stopped dead in his tracks. Now, apparently realizing that he had no choice, he was coming reluctantly forwards.

"Hello, Christopher."

Lorelai, a few feet behind her mother, gave a little wave. Christopher looked uncomfortable as he approached. Emily, however, stepped eagerly forwards.

"And this is…" she pressed.

"Melanie." He turned to the woman at his side. "This is Emily Gilmore and Lorelai. Rory's mother."

The woman looked startled, then murmured something to Christopher. "Oh, Rory's…you didn't tell me that she was going to be here."

Christopher squirmed. "I didn't know that she was going to be here."

Lorelai arrived at her mother's side. "Wow, what a coincidence. I didn't know I was going to be here either until two days ago. And I didn't know Chris was going to be here because my mom didn't tell me."

"Well I didn't know. I expected to see your mother, Christopher, but I didn't realize you would be attending."

"My mother fractured her fibula, so I'm her stand-in."

"Your mother broke her leg? Why haven't we heard this? Give her my best wishes for a quick recovery, Christopher."

"I will do that." Christopher glanced over at Lorelai, who was looking with deep interest at the wall on her right.

"Do you know many people here, Christopher?" Emily asked.

"Uh, well, there's the odd vaguely familiar face which could belong to four or five different prep schools."

"Come along, Christopher, Melanie. I'll introduce you. Everyone here knows your mother, Christopher…"

Emily's voice trailed off as she steered Christopher and Melanie in the opposite direction. Christopher cast one brief, pained backwards glance at Lorelai, but she had already turned around to face the punch table and compose herself.

For a few moments she stood alone, feeling stunned and oddly hurt. She stared absently at the patterns on the wallpaper across the room, trying to figure out how she should react—or why she was reacting the way she was. Christopher had a _girlfriend_. Of course, Christopher had a girlfriend. He was an attractive man, he was friendly to everyone, and she'd seen those women at Gigi's play. But she'd thought…

Lorelai had spent time with Chris and Gigi several times since the play. Gigi had loved it, and Christopher had seemed to enjoy her company. Lorelai had certainly enjoyed being with him. Had she been a fool to think that meant something—that even if their relationship wasn't that of husband and wife, even if there wasn't a hint of romance, at least as a friend she was an important woman in Christopher's life? The least Christopher could have done was told her about Melanie. She was still Rory's mother, if nothing else.

Lorelai was standing in deep introspection, a half-finished chocolate hovering in her hand above her plastic plate, when she became suddenly aware of a voice at her elbow.

"Lorelai Gilmore?"

His smile was open and friendly. "It's been a long time."

"Oh, time flies, I guess," Lorelai responded, forcing a laugh.

"How are you?"

_Besides upset and unreasonably jealous?_ thought Lorelai. _Completely clueless._ She was racking her brain trying to figure out who this man was. His face looked very familiar, his voice was familiar, but who was he?

"Uh, besides slightly deafened and about to go snowblind from all this white hair, wonderful."

He grinned, and suddenly Lorelai remembered who he was. His name was Daniel Drohan, and Emily had just mentioned him a few Friday night dinners ago. He was the son of one of the D.A.R. women, and although he was a few years older than Lorelai, she had met him a number of times as a girl. He'd been in California for a while. Now apparently he was back in Connecticut, newly divorced and supposedly disillusioned with lavish lifestyles and old money.

All in all, little to find fault with. Except that Lorelai would rather be anywhere else than here, especially since Chris and Melanie were sitting directly across from her, no matter how hard she tried not to notice.

* * *

Christopher was uncomfortable. Here he was, sitting on a couch with Melanie, while Lorelai, of all people, was standing across from him at the food table. If Chris had even dreamed Lorelai might be here, he would never have brought Melanie. Not before he told Lorelai about Melanie, and he hadn't planned to tell Lorelai about Melanie until he was sure Melanie was going to be around for a while. Admittedly, he'd expected Emily to be here. And Emily would have told Lorelai. But his mother's request that he go in her place had been so last-minute, Chris hadn't had a chance to collect his thoughts...and he wouldn't even have brought Melanie if he hadn't mentioned the party to her and she hadn't insisted on coming...and he wouldn't have listened to her if he hadn't been completely horrified by the prospect of going alone to a largely female gathering.

More to the point, why on earth would Lorelai have agreed to come here with her mother, anyway? Lorelai hated these society functions. She wouldn't have come to one on her own volition, let alone at her mother's behest.

Chris felt terrible. He had planned to tell Lorelai about Melanie...just at the right time. Melanie was a fourth grade teacher at Gigi's school. She was tall and beautiful, with honey brown hair and brown eyes. Chris had noticed her several times: she was one of the few attractive women he'd looked at twice since becoming single again. Chris had talked to her several times and had been pleasantly surprised to find that she seemed even more attractive inside than out. She was several years younger than he was, but very intelligent--and besides, Chris didn't think he was as mature as he should be for his age. Melanie was patient and sweet without being syrupy--she had a quick wit and a great sense of humour.

He hadn't been comfortable with her meeting Gigi yet, but Melanie always asked about Gigi--and about Rory, once she'd learned Chris had another daughter. That was how she'd learned about Lorelai. Chris had finally told her yesterday about his two-month marriage to Lorelai. He'd known that if she went anywhere among Hartford society, she'd hear the gossip about him and Lorelai.

So Chris had told Melanie the marriage had been impulsive, a terrible mistake on both their parts—but one which they'd realized quickly. It wasn't even a legal marriage, Chris had told her. Just a quick church blessing. Their relationship hadn't been any more serious than a brief engagement. Everything between him and Lorelai was now completely over.

Melanie had absorbed all this information with wide but compassionate eyes. She said she was glad Chris had been honest with her, and that she'd come to know his character well enough that she didn't think any worse of him for either his divorce from Sherry, or his hasty elopement and separation from Lorelai . Marrying for the sake of a child is never a good idea, Melanie had said, and as for him and Lorelai, it was easy to get carried away by nostalgic feelings without taking the present into account. At least they'd realized their mistake quickly.

Chris had been glad Melanie had so much faith in him and had been so understanding, but he felt guilty about the way he'd portrayed his marriage to Lorelai. At least on his side, it hadn't really been an impulsive or quickly regretted decision. He'd fully believed he was marrying Lorelai for life. No matter how badly their marriage had turned out, he felt like he was demeaning it by making it out to be something hasty and meaningless. But how else would he explain how it had fallen apart so quickly? How else would he explain Lorelai's behaviour?

He glanced at Lorelai across the room. Every so often, out of the corner of his eye, he'd been sure she was looking his way: but the second he'd turn his head, her eyes would be shifting back towards the man she was talking to--even if Chris could swear she was still looking at him out of the corner of her right eye. Exactly the same way he was watching her.

He had no clue who she was talking to, but he was a good-looking man--at least two inches taller than Chris, impeccably dressed in a navy suit and gold tie, tanned and boasting a full head of thick dark hair, despite the slight encroachment of grey in the black. He fit the stereotype of tall, dark and handsome perfectly. And rich. But everyone here was rich.

Chris turned his attention to Melanie, and was instantly distracted. She was beautiful, and listening to the endless prattle of the elderly woman beside her with devout attentiveness. Chris was impressed. He had never before seen someone look so ardently interested in something so uninteresting. Melanie had people skills, for sure. What were the two of them talking about?

"And despite the low attendance, we raised nearly a thousand dollars for the memorial garden." Mrs. Newton was saying.

"That's wonderful," Melanie gushed. "My friend on the hospital board says she can't get people to donate unless they get their name in diamonds for it."

Chris smiled to himself, turning slightly away and glancing at the floor. Then it occurred to him that Melanie might not have intended to make an ironic statement. He glanced at her again. He might not have known Melanie for long, but he thought he knew when she was being sincere. At his glance, Melanie turned to smile at him. He returned her smile with just the faintest hint of insider amusement--and Melanie's smile remained as open and guileless as it had been on first glance. In fact, far from conveying an understanding of a private joke, Melanie's beaming eyes and delighted smile seemed to say, "Isn't she delightful. Such a darling!"

Melanie turned back to Mrs. Newton.

"So, tell me, how often do you have these charity balls? I'm sure my friend would love to get in touch with you."

Chris' expression was turning from amused to astonished. Melanie had no clue. She thought this elderly woman was the salt of the earth, an honourable, selfless soul. Chris couldn't believe it. Then again, he realized to his slight chagrin that maybe the woman really was. Chris didn't know this particular woman at all. He just knew her type. He'd been exposed to what seemed like hundreds and hundreds of these women with their charity balls, elitist fundraisers, generous and public donations, and scheming one-upmanship all through his childhood, youth, and into his adulthood. He knew this lifestyle and its pettiness, superficiality and hypocrisy backwards and forwards.

But Melanie didn't. That, Chris realized, was the difference. Melanie had probably no idea that this kind of world even existed. Chris had found out what kind of a place it actually was, that a grimier reality lay beneath these people's lofty-sounding pronouncements about civic duties and patriotic ideals. But it had taken him years of constant exposure to this society to learn exactly what it really was. How could he expect Melanie to comprehend it all instantly? Unfortunately, she would need a lot of time and experience to catch up with him.

Chris fiddled with his shirt sleeves and sighed. He glanced across the room again at Lorelai. He wondered how well she was enjoying that man's company. She was alternately nodding, giving exaggerated smiles, twirling her hair, and turning to examine the photographs on the wall. From time to time her right eye roved dangerously near Christopher's direction--but it never quite reached the couch where Chris and Melanie were sitting.

Chris' mouth curled up in a half-smile. He had wondered if Lorelai had found her companion as attractive as he obviously found her, but he had his answer. Chris felt relieved that Lorelai obviously wasn't interested. Not that it mattered at all: he didn't care. But he'd hadn't expected Lorelai to hang around being single after she'd broken up with Luke. That wasn't Lorelai's way. Men were interested in her, and she would jump at the chance to flirt with even a man she wasn't interested in, stringing clueless suitors along when she had no intention of getting serious. He'd seen her do it in high school, and had found it amusing then, as though he were part of her inside joke—knowing she wanted him, and only him.

Chris wondered why Lorelai wasn't flirting with this man or encouraging him, even if he wasn't to her taste. And as a matter of fact, Chris didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't really see why she wouldn't be interested in this fellow. Wasn't he everything that women wanted? Tanned and handsome, a fluent conversationalist, charming. Chris knew Lorelai had high standards, but he couldn't see how this man wouldn't meet them.

* * *

Lorelai was feeling more and more apathetic and gloomy. True, Daniel was an interesting conversationalist. From the slightly conceited and over-serious young man she remembered, he'd become vulnerable and even unsure of himself. He looked like someone who'd been hurt by life. At the same time, he was caring and genuinely interested in her life—in fact, he'd practically jumped at the chance to serve her more punch and had asked two or three times if she wanted anything else on the table. Once upon a time Lorelai might have taken a second look at someone like this. Actually, Daniel reminded her a bit of the Luke she'd first gotten to know—someone who'd do anything for everyone else, yet projected a vaguely melancholy air of unworthiness. Once, Lorelai would have been stimulated by the challenge of making someone like this smile and laugh—and the possibility of wrapping him around her little finger in the process would have been tempting, too. But now? She just felt somewhat sorry for Daniel. It was too bad he'd been bruised by the way life had treated him. But she didn't have anything to offer him, and she was sure he didn't have anything she wanted.

Daniel had finally been intercepted by a number of middle-aged and elderly women--there seemed to be no end of those swarming around. A few seconds later, Emily had swooped down on Lorelai and steered her in the direction of another eligible divorcé. Lorelai wondered wearily how many of her peers had been divorced by now. She'd never thought she'd be one of them. Cam Rutherford was about six inches shorter than Daniel, with reddish-blond hair, twinkling green eyes and an endless repertoire of zany jokes. About half of them actually made her laugh, despite her dismal mood. Lorelai wasn't particularly surprised to learn that Cam had dabbled in stand-up comedy. At one time, she would have found him just as attractive as she could have found Daniel--in a totally different way. He reminded her a bit of Jason: talkative, funny, quirky. She loved the verbal repartee she could have with men like this.

Or, she used to. But somehow right now she wished all these men would just vanish. She wished the whole party would go up in a puff of smoke. Everything here was completely unappealing to her. Yes, at one time it would have been fun to chat with those men; but all she could think about was that the only person she really wanted to talk to was out of earshot, perhaps permanently. At one time it would have been fun to flirt with both Daniel and Cam, even date them; but the truth was, after being married to someone she was now pretty sure she could have stayed happily married to for the rest of her life, flirting and dating seemed futile and bland.

Lorelai winced. Another man was approaching her. Had the whole world heard that Emily Gilmore's flighty daughter was newly single? He was incredibly tall and thin, with acne-scarred features and a slight forward-craning neck. But the first thing Lorelai noticed about him was the wetness of his lips.

"Lorelai Gilmore? Or after twenty years, do my eyes deceive me?"

"I'm sorry. I don't think I…"

"Ninth grade introduction to the arts, remember? You sat three seats ahead of me. We did a dramatic reading of von Flotow's Martha. You were Martha and I was Sir Tristram."

"Oh yeah! Jim Stewart. You were the perfect evil love rival. Although your pitch was a little mezzosoprano at times."

"Well, I was fifteen. My voice was wavering between low E and middle G. I volunteered for the bass part to impress you, but I have to say you were impressed by a very limited selection of men."

"Yes, what can I say? I had posters of leading men in my bedroom and then I had to go face twenty dozen teenage boys with nicked chins and bad skin."

"I believe there was one who found favor with you."

"Yes, well at that age girls are young enough to remember the "one true love" quote from Sleeping Beauty, and old enough to expect it to come true."

"I heard about you and Christopher. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. Uh, I mean because if I had a choice between a day on an island in Dubai and getting separated, I'd probably choose the island."

"But no man is an island."

"Are you now trying to impress me with your knowledge of John Donne?"

"I'm saying I've traveled the Pacific, the Atlantic, and the Sargasso Sea, and I've seen enough islands. I'm home to stay."

* * *

Chris leaned back a little deeper into the couch. Melanie was trying to negotiate conversations with two different women, as well as give him the occasional doting smile. Chris glanced around the room. A group of people in front of him abruptly dispersed, and to Christopher's consternation, he had a suddenly clear view of Lorelai, standing with yet another male companion at the other end of the room.

He let his eyes rove around the entire room, hoping that way he it wouldn't look like he was avoiding Lorelai's gaze nor deliberately seeking it. It didn't matter, anyway, because when his eyes finally did reach Lorelai, she was looking at the ground. She didn't seem any more enthusiastic about this man than she had about the past two--although this one seemed to be her biggest fan out of all three. He was definitely out-talking Lorelai tonight, by a ratio of about ten to one.

Which didn't make any sense. Sure, this last guy seemed a little out of touch with reality. But the last two had looked like great guys, the sort of men Lorelai would once have encouraged without blinking her eye. Christopher had to admit that he'd been watching Lorelai quite a bit, when Melanie hadn't been looking. He'd been sure she'd hit it off with one of those men. But she'd been pretty subdued the whole evening. In fact, she'd been getting less and less animated as the evening wore on.

Chris didn't understand it at all. She'd rejected him, hadn't she? He did realize, much as he didn't want to, that Lorelai probably had second thoughts about ending their marriage. But still, if she could end their marriage in a matter of months, and opt out of a third try with Luke after only a few weeks, surely she could jump into another relationship just as quickly.

"Chris, didn't you say Gigi walked at nine months?"

Melanie interrupted his thoughts. Chris turned to her. Melanie and two society women were looking at him intently.

"She did, and she could say ten words at a year."

"My goodness, so precocious. You've done so well on your own, Christopher, after that sorry excuse of a first wife left you."

"How old did you say your grandchildren were, Mrs. Newton?" said Melanie, artfully changing the topic.

Chris smiled slightly as he looked at the floor, absently twisting his napkin. He watched Melanie for a few seconds, and she turned to him and smiled. Chris felt a glow inside as he looked at her. She was beautiful, she was obviously interested in Chris, she had a beautiful personality--she lit a spark inside him.

Then his eyes flickered over the scene across the room, and his smile disappeared. Melanie was a beautiful person. But Lorelai was something more than beautiful. He didn't know why his eyes wanted to drink her in: it wasn't anything he could define. She was just...Lorelai. Watching her tilt her head back slightly, fiddle with her glass, shift from one foot to the other, his mind wandered. He'd memorized the way she did all those things. He knew everything there was to know about her. He shouldn't think about just how well he'd known her...and yet, he remembered. He would probably always remember. 

Then, just as Christopher was trying to pull his mind back, Lorelai looked his way. This time their eyes met. Chris smiled wanly. Lorelai gave him the faintest of smiles back, even as she turned her head back towards the other man.

Chris hung his arms at his sides and stared at the floor, oblivious to every conversation around him, including the one at his side. It wasn't as though his heart skipped a beat when he looked at Lorelai. It wasn't as though his brain melted into a puddle--though it once had. It was simply that his eyes and his mind were somehow drawn to her. There was an insistent pull, and then a feeling of serenity and rightness as soon as his eyes found her, and her eyes met his.

He hadn't intended to feel this way. He turned his attention to Melanie and, once again, was instantly distracted. The ringing of glasses had announced the impending birthday speech, given by Mrs. Boyer's son-in-law--Christopher and Lorelai's former science teacher. Chris wasn't looking forward to this birthday address at all. He knew from painful experience just how long Mr. Thompson could drone on without making a single coherent statement.

Christopher turned to look back for Lorelai. At first he couldn't find her: then he realized that Lorelai and her friend (who was still talking) were sitting across from him. He looked as intently as he could towards the end of the room, where the speech was beginning.

It was effusive from the start, and it only got longer. It was filled with statements like "this august and auspicious occasion", "the illustrious personage of whom we are speaking" and Christopher's favourite: "the portion of the population perspicacious enough to plan for their progeny into perpetuity."

Chris had been glancing at Lorelai tentatively, but she hadn't met his eyes. At the "perpetuity" phrase, though, she finally looked at him. Christopher grinned, and Lorelai's lips began to widen in a small smile. "Remember when we pulled the fire alarm during his class?" her eyes said.

"And the next day we didn't have to take notes for half the class because he was so busy showing off his vocabulary in a lecture about pulling a false alarm," answered Chris' dancing eyes.

Now Lorelai's eyes were laughing. Chris nodded his head in the man's direction.

"You think we should try something similar here?" his eyes said mischievously.

Lorelai's eyes widened in mock horror. "Christopher!" her eyes said.

Chris looked down at his watch, tapped it, and then jerked his head subtly in the direction of the pontificating speechmaker. "I'm timing him," the action said. "If he's not done soon, I'm looking for the fire alarm in this mansion."

Lorelai just grinned, delighted.

Afterwards, both Christopher and Lorelai remained seated where they had been during the speech. Christopher watched Lorelai's male friend turn his full attention on Lorelai again. He was nothing if not single-minded: he never seemed to stop talking. And he kept leaning in closer. It only took a few seconds for Lorelai to begin squirming, glancing at her watch, allowing her eyes to float over the ceiling. It was obvious that she was looking desperately for an escape.

Chris felt bad for her. At the same time, it was rather funny. It had been a long time since he had seen Lorelai look so ill-at-ease--in a conversation with a man, no less. She looked vulnerable and in need of rescue. Finally, Lorelai looked up for a second, and Chris caught her eye. His own eyes gleamed with amusement, but the look Lorelai shot back at him was both offended and unsure.

Chris' eyes softened, though the corners of his mouth were still turned up in a smile. He glanced over at the lanky man, who was still talking, and raised his free hand very slightly to open and close it, like a mouth.

Lorelai's face was transformed into a smile. Her eyebrows raised, she nodded her head almost imperceptibly towards Melanie, who was talking animatedly with a number of Christopher's mother's friends. Christopher looked back at Lorelai a little sheepishly. Then the embarrassment vanished and he gave Lorelai a real, open smile, acknowledging what she'd meant and admitting she was right. Melanie was deeply engrossed in a conversation in which Chris had absolutely no interest. His expression said: "Melanie's all right, it's not her fault. But you're right, she doesn't quite get it."

Chris' eyes might have said more than that if one of his mother's friends hadn't suddenly approached, blocking his view of Lorelai, and firing a thousand questions at him. For the next ten minutes, both he and Lorelai were completely held captive by their respective conversational partners. Finally, Mrs. Newton stepped aside when Melanie tapped Chris on the arm.

"Mrs. Boyer wants to show us her hothouse. It's got ten dozen different varieties of flowers."

"From forty-seven states, including four Caribbean countries."

"That's an impressive collection. I never knew Cuba was our fifty-second state. How's Castro taking it?"

Melanie flashed Chris a look of warning, even as her eyes twinkled. "I can hardly wait to see it, Mrs Boyer. I've tried to grow a garden for years and I seem to kill everything I touch. You must have a green thumb."

While Melanie was speaking, Chris glanced over at Lorelai. She was watching him, her eyes pained. Suddenly Chris touched Melanie's shoulder.

"I just saw someone I've got to talk to. You go on. When you get back you can tell me all about the eighth wonder of the horticultural world."

Chris slipped away, threading through the crowd in search of what he'd seen a moment ago. Sure enough, near the doorway, there was Emily Gilmore, trying to heft a second large wrapped box through the entryway to a table beyond. Judging by her florid face and her awkward progression through the hallway, she was having difficulty. Chris approached her.

"Emily, let a gentleman give you a hand."

"That would be helpful, if there were any well-mannered gentleman in this place."

Chris held out his hands and Emily, a disgusted look on her face, handed him the box.

"Well here I am, Launcelot to your rescue."

"Well at least someone has the decency to look out for a woman."

"You shouldn't have been carrying this in the first place! What's in here? A couple hundred tons of salt from the Dead Sea?"

"It's a model of the house. The house was built in the exact year Marjorie was born, so Richard and I thought having a replica built would be a thoughtful gift. Unfortunately it's not fully assembled."

"How many more boxes are there?"

"They're on the lawn right now. I suppose there are about half a dozen."

"All right. You sit down and relax. I'm going to go get some reinforcements."

Chris hurried back to find Lorelai. As he approached he heard a steady flow of words.

"And you told the teacher it was ASLG disease, a rare form of apple pox. Little did she know you and Aimee had taken bites out of all two dozen apples. You were quite an irrepressible bunch. It reminds me of the poem by Christina Rosetti. You remember "Goblin Market", back in..."

Chris tapped Lorelai on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, but we seem to have a bit of a crisis in the front entryway."

"Oh dear," said the man, who Christopher suddenly remembered as the skinny nerd who sat three seats behind Lorelai in Introduction to the Arts and used to count lockers during the lunch hour. "Do you need my assistance?"

"Lorelai's mother just needs to see her for a moment." To Lorelai, Chris said: "If you want to prevent your mother from spending the rest of her life on her back counting ceiling patterns, you'd better come and intervene."

Lorelai jumped up. "She didn't try to prove she could still touch her toes, did she? 'Cause that always leads to trouble."

"No, it's two hundred pounds of possibly broken ceramic."

"Hey, can I remind you that I am not exactly Arnold Schwarzenegger here?"

"I thought you wanted me to get you out of there."

"I did, I didn't want a career carrying two ton bricks."

"I'm not asking you to take up weightlifting. Just stand here and look pretty."

"Ooh, can I bat my eyelashes at all the handsome men who walk by?"

Emily, catching her breath in the entryway, saw them approaching. "Lorelai! Christopher, Lorelai can't lift those models."

"Mom, what did I hear you were trying to do back here?"

"Lorelai's not going to lift anything. She's going to be my doorstop. " He turned to Lorelai. "Would you mind holding the door for me, Scarlett?"

"Ooh, my first name! So forward!"

Emily, shaking her head, left the room. In a minute, Chris hauled in another three boxes.

"Grab one."

"I thought you said no heavy lifting. In fact, I put on my Southern belle expression just so you could see I was a fragile flower in no condition to...Ow!" Chris had unceremoniously pushed the third box at her.

"Follow me."

They laid the boxes down in an empty room where all the presents were piled. Then Chris touched Lorelai on the shoulder and propelled her towards a back door.

"Christopher, what are you doing?"

"There's a gazebo here somewhere. Remember?"

"It's probably been demolished like that model should be."

"Come on."

They crept out through the backyard, dark now in the early October evening. The air, though was surprisingly warm after an exceptionally mild day, so much so that they didn't need coats. Christopher pushed through some undergrowth and vines to reveal a rickety gazebo underneath.

"Ohh…it's still here," Lorelai breathed.

"In all its cramped and allergy-inducing glory."

"I forgot this place existed."

"You forgot the place where you took your first breath of nicotine?"

"Well if you hadn't been there with a pack of cigarettes, it would have been the most unmemorable visit of my life. Thank goodness you were there to make sure I threw up in Mrs. Boyer's back garden."

"That's what I'm here for."

"So what'd you bring me here for tonight?"

"Oh, I figured you'd take this over another hour of Hamlet's soliloquies."

"How did you know I was ready to collapse from boredom?"

"You didn't exactly look like Gary Kasparov planning to checkmate Deep Blue there."

"Well, neither did you, Mr. Alligator Puppet."

There was an awkward pause as Chris nodded, but didn't quite smile. Finally Lorelai asked, much more quietly, "Is it serious?"

"Yeah, no, it's, ah…"

"Never mind, I shouldn't have asked."

"No. Lor, I would tell you if anything was going to change in my life. Because of Rory."

"Right, Rory."

"I was going to tell you."

"No, no, it's totally fine. I mean I don't want to be the nosy ex-wife who calls her daughter twenty times a day to ask if her dad's girlfriend wore Estée Lauder or something cheap. You have your own life."

"You're still part of it."

"Chris…"

"I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to get rid of someone who can quote my report cards chapter and verse from Grades 1 to 11."

"I forget second grade math. Was that a B- or a C?"

"I believe it was a C."

"And you were planning to attend an Ivy League school."

"In my defense, I had an excuse. You sat behind me and you whispered imaginary plot spoilers for the New Howdy Doody Show in my ear."

"That better not be your excuse for ninth grade math."

"What did I get? A C-?

"You got a D, mister. You spent two whole weeks in your room studying for the final exam just so you could pass the class."

"I'm never using you as a reference."

"Hey, you better be glad I don't know what you were wearing every day of your entire childhood. Tonight I learned on September 8th, 1976, I apparently wore a white cardigan, plaid skirt, and a blouse with teddy bears doing the hula hoop."

"I wish I'd taken that guy out the first time he asked me if I knew whose locker was seven lockers before mine. I thought he was doing recreational algebra, not stalking my girlfriend."

"Nah, he wasn't worth it. He'd never pass the test."

"He was studying for twelve years."

"Yet tonight, he asked me if I wanted tickets to an Andrea Boccelli concert."

"That doesn't seem possible."

"He also thought that I seemed like the type of person who would really enjoy Celtic Woman's version of Orinoco Flow because I probably loved Enya's.

"This guy has an A to Z file in his brain for your third grade clothing!"

"Yet he got my tastes in music completely wrong."

"He knew the facts but not the formula."

"How could someone know every detail about my life and yet think I'm the kind of girl who would listen to Irish drums and Danny Boy for an entire evening?"

"Relax, he's probably an autistic savant. Someday he'll have the entire phone book down and memorizing Lorelai Gilmore's shirt will seem like Chopsticks and not worthy to be mentioned."

Lorelai laughed with Chris. She moved a little closer to him, and he didn't resist. Both of them were looking out over the open night sky.

"There's a lot of stars out tonight."

"The sky's clear."

"Remember when we'd try to count the stars in the Big Dipper?"

"You maintained there were seven, I said there were eight."

"Okay, go ahead, count them."

"One, two, three, four…

"Five, six, seven."

"Eight."

"Christopher, there is no eight. It's called parallax. It messes with your head."

"My head's pretty clear. You're just standing in the wrong spot."

Lorelai moved slightly nearer to Chris and behind him, until she was a hairsbreadth away from touching him.

"Okay, okay, there's a faint possibility of an eighth."

"You know, we could always look at an astronomy book."

"And have one of us win the argument?"

"It could be you."

"But then I wouldn't get to be unselfish and take your side when in doubt."

There was a clatter and raucous laughter from inside the house.

"It sounds like they're starting a second Trojan War in there," Chris remarked.

"I guess we should get back inside."

"What do you mean? The air's warm, the stars are shining, and there's no Emily Gilmore in sight."

"Won't Melanie be looking for you?"

Chris sighed and moved slightly to the right of Lorelai, who reacted instantly by shifting further left.

"Nah, Mrs. Boyer probably hasn't even scratched the surface of her Caribbean plant collection."

"Okay," said Lorelai, relaxing beside him.

There was a pause, while they breathed in the slight autumn chill, watched the wind ripple the grass and the dying leaves on the trees, and stared at the stars. Christopher's hand rested on the ledge of the gazebo. After a while, so did Lorelai's—dangerously near his. Finally, Lorelai spoke.

"Chris."

"What?"

"I thought I should tell you, um--"

You want to renege on the Big Dipper compromise of '07"?

"No. You know, up until tonight, I never knew there were so many undatable single men out there."

"Not just Jim?"

"No. But you're not one of them. Melanie's a lucky girl."

"Lor…"

There was a sudden rustle behind them, followed instantly by a footfall. Lorelai and Christopher both shot around. There, illuminated by the light from the house behind her, stood Emily Gilmore.

"Christopher and Lorelai! Of all the people I thought I would find in a compromising position tonight!"

"Mom, hang on a second. What did you see us doing?"

"Nothing, and I don't want to know what there was to see."

"You didn't see anything because there wasn't anything to see!"

"Lor…" muttered Christopher uncomfortably.

"What do you think I am, Mom? Do you actually believe I'd steal Christopher's girlfriend away from him the first chance I got? Christopher and I weren't compromising on anything except counting stars."

"Christopher is just as culpable as you are, Lorelai. His girlfriend is in there waiting for him, and here you two are standing out here like Romeo and Juliet about to elope."

"I better go," said Chris aside to Lorelai, slipping out behind Emily. Emily barely noticed. She was facing Lorelai, her face white a combination of shock, outrage, and hurt. Lorelai was far too angry to see the hurt.

"Mom, how could you say those things to us?"

"I am looking out for your reputation, Lorelai. Do you know how much of an embarrassment it was for me to explain the cancellation of all those wedding invitations two months after I'd announced your wedding? Do you plan to now tell those same people that your separation was some sort of ludicrous joke?"

"If you were so mad that Chris and I separated, why didn't you say something?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Lorelai, whenever I say something, you do the exact opposite. If I'd remonstrated with you for divorcing Christopher, you would probably have cut ties with him completely. If I'd congratulated you on your divorce you would have gone straight back to Christopher even if you were absolutely miserable with him. I know it seems impossible to believe, Lorelai, but as your mother, I want you to be satisfied with the choices you make in life, even if I disagree vehemently with them. I should have known that when I said nothing about the divorce you'd take it as approval and run straight back into Christopher's arms just to spite me."

"Go show off your fancy model of the house, Mom. I'm getting a ride home with someone else."


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, Emily was having an unheard-of second chocolate muffin for her morning coffee break while Richard listened magnanimously to her tirade.

"Richard, I was absolutely mortified. Thank goodness I caught them before things went any further and someone else found them."

"Emily, what things exactly did you see?"

"They were together, Richard. Brazenly defying the fact that Christopher had brought a girlfriend. And I had hoped against all reason that Lorelai had struck something up with that charming son of Florence Stewart."

"The one who recites poetry in answer to a simple hello?"

"Don't mock me, Richard. Can you imagine how I would look if the whole community found out that my daughter was having a dalliance with her ex-husband after ending her rekindled love affair with her ex-fiance? It makes my head spin. In fact, I feel a crippling headache coming on."

"Well then perhaps you should go take a Tylenol. Double strength, if you feel you need it."

"Richard, have you got any sympathy for your wife at all?"

"Emily, I'm just having trouble comprehending what you're so worked up about."

Oh, well what would you have done if you'd found them together in that gazebo?

"I found them together in our old gazebo numerous times and I never had a problem with it. In fact, I slipped quietly away."

"That was when they were both teenagers. Lorelai and Christopher are thirty-nine years old. They chose to separate. When will they learn to accept the consequences of their actions, instead of forever flitting back to each other like a pair of moths to the flame?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't suppose you have any idea what it feels like to be sixty years old and having second thoughts about separating from your spouse."

"We were a completely different situation."

"Yes, because we separated when had forty years of marriage beneath our belts. Lorelai and Christopher were newlyweds and should have known exactly how to make a marriage work."

"You act as though a separation two months into a marriage is a normal occurrence. I'm starting to think you expected them to reunite all along!"

"Emily, you're a charming, intelligent woman, but you're also one of the most bullheaded women I have ever met in my life. And your daughter takes after you."

"So in addition to being bullheaded, I'm also unconscionably rude, self-centred and ungrateful."

"Look, Lorelai has been in love with Christopher most of her life and he with her, and yet because she's as stubborn as you are, she'll slam the door in his face the minute he makes the slightest misstep."

"Well, Christopher isn't exactly the finest catch Lorelai could make. Sometimes I think the man has never grown past sixteen years old. I heard him bragging to Rory's boyfriend one day about his collection of video and computer games."

"Emily, I think both you and Lorelai underestimate Christopher."

"Oh, I take after Lorelai again, do I?"

"No, _she's_ the spitting image of _you_. You both have about half the confidence in Christopher that you should have, and yet he can melt you both like butter."

"Well, if you hold Christopher in such high esteem, maybe you should have had a talk with him about his behaviour in this shambles of a marriage."

"Maybe I will. But may I ask, if you were so dismayed by this separation, why didn't you speak to your daughter, seeing as I was recovering from a heart attack and was in no condition to take on a heated discussion?"

"I have spoken to Lorelai. I have spoken to her and spoken to her every time she heads towards another disastrous mistake, and she always turns around and throws my advice in my face by doing exactly the opposite of what I suggested."

"For goodness' sake, Emily, don't talk in sweeping generalities. Give some examples."

"All right: in the last three years alone, I told her I didn't approve of Luke, and she dated him; then when he broke up with her and she was miserable I took pity on her and sanctioned the relationship. We bought a house for them, sent out save the date cards and did everything short of outright misrepresentation to make Luke appear at least somewhat palatable to our social circle. Then we find out Lorelai and Luke have not only postponed their wedding, they've ended their relationship outright."

"And both of us very wisely held our tongues about that. We agreed that Lorelai was too old for us to give judgments about her relationships. "

"Exactly. And that was why I kept my congratulations to a minimum when they announced their marriage, and why I didn't say a word when Lorelai told me she and Christopher had separated."

"Although you were deeply upset."

"Well of course I was, Richard. I had to take back all those wedding invitations, not to mention endure all the looks from friends. If you hadn't needed my constant attention I probably would have taken to my bed again."

"I wasn't such an invalid that you couldn't spare a moment to give your daughter some motherly advice. We agreed we wouldn't condemn her, not stop sharing our opinions."

"I'm finished with giving opinions and dispensing advice, Richard. It has fallen on deaf ears every single time since Lorelai was thirteen years old."

"And that was why you launched into a tirade at her last night?"

"It wasn't a tirade, it was simply righteous indignation. I thought Lorelai and I were finally getting back on good footing. Now I feel as though I've just opened up the San Antonio fault line."

"That's it. I'm going to call Christopher this evening and ask him to join me for a game of golf on Saturday."

"You are in no condition to golf. The doctor told you to refrain from strenuous physical activity for three months."

"And it's been nine months since my heart attack."

"I still don't approve."

"What would you approve of, then? Another sixteen year-long rift between us and our daughter? I haven't agreed with many of Lorelai's choices over the years any more than you have, but someone has to do something. Christopher is a sensible young man. If anyone is going to accept reason here, it will be Christopher."

* * *

Several days later, Christopher was sitting at home early in the morning, drinking coffee and mulling over his unexpected golf game with Richard. Richard had always been friendly to him, and Christopher had almost assumed this game was just a belated peace offering from an ex-father-in-law. After all, Richard wasn't Emily.

The first sixteen holes had seemed to be that--a friendly golf game. Richard played a pretty good game for his age, but by the sixteenth hole, Christopher had a three-shot advantage. He was just starting to feel comfortable and competitive when Richard suddenly said, after shooting his ball into a stand of trees,

"So, have you been seeing much of Lorelai these days?"

"Ah, well, occasionally, but we're like most couples who've split up. We don't have too many occasions to see each other."

"That's too bad. I'd hoped you'd be working things out right now."

Christopher was in no mood for subtleties. "Emily told you about our little gazebo encounter, huh?"

"What? Oh, yes, Emily mentioned that she found you and Lorelai in the gazebo. Quite frankly, I didn't understand why she was so upset."

"I've let your family down enough times. It was probably just the last straw."

"Nonsense. Emily just gets a bee in her bonnet about nothing sometimes. She and Lorelai are too much alike. I remember when she and I separated. I thought she was never going to take me back."

"Look, Richard, Lorelai and I didn't separate over any one thing. She just didn't want to be with me. That's the end of the story."

"Emily said very similar things to me. She told me we were over for good. And I must admit I responded in kind."

"That's not it. Lorelai and I just grew away from each other."

"I saw the way you two exchanged secret messages over our heads at Rory's graduation. Growing apart is one explanation I won't accept."

"That was the explanation I got."

"Christopher, Lorelai is Emily's daughter. She says what she thinks she means, but that's rarely the whole story. I have no idea why Lorelai took it into her head to ask you for a separation, but I expect she'll regret her words, if she hasn't already.

"I'm not counting on it."

"You'd better count on it, because I am."

"Richard, it's a little late for--"

"It's not a little late for anything. Christopher, I've always respected you. You were a reckless boy, but you took responsibility and proposed when Lorelai became pregnant. You did the right thing with Sherry, but a sudden marriage can't undo twenty years of history. You and Lorelai and Rory are a family. Lorelai chose to go her own way at sixteen, but I always thought she would eventually--"

"Figure out she didn't want me."

"This may surprise you, Christopher, but I wasn't astonished by your separation. I know it's not easy living with a woman as stubborn as Lorelai, or Emily, for that matter. You got married too quickly and she dug in her heels. That doesn't mean she doesn't love you."

"Yeah. You know, there's a saying about actions speaking louder than words."

"They certainly do. I can see you don't believe me, Christopher, but I'll leave you with just one thought before I finish up this hole with a double birdie and even our score. Lorelai didn't wait nearly forty years to marry the wrong man. If you think actions speak louder than words, you'd better listen to that."

Looking out the window of his apartment, Christopher sighed. He was in a disgruntled mood. He'd thought he had his life all figured out. He was going to leave Lorelai behind and move on with Melanie. Why did it seem like the whole world was conspiring to draw him back into that unhealthy relationship he'd had with Lorelai? Christopher had always respected Richard. Richard could be formal and aloof, but compared to Christopher's own father, Richard seemed almost warm and cuddly. And here he was telling Christopher to hold on to Lorelai, to fight to win her back.

Christopher suspected that much of what Richard was saying was right. He was getting the feeling that their break-up in January hadn't been anywhere near as permanent as it had felt at the time. And he couldn't deny that there had been something between them that night at the 90th birthday party, even if he hadn't wanted to see it. Worse still, Lorelai seemed to have changed yet again. Once she'd have flirted around with all the eligible men at the party. Only a few months ago, as friendly as she might have been, she probably would have kept her distance from Christopher. Instead, at the party she'd seemed relieved and overjoyed to escape with him out to the gazebo. It was as though she really had no interest in anyone other than him. Even more bewilderingly, Lorelai had known he was with Melanie and that he wasn't available to her anymore. But she made no overt maneouvres to get him back; no matter what Emily said, she wasn't trying to stake her claim on Chris.

She was just being Lorelai. And that was the problem. When she was acting like herself, Chris had a weakness for Lorelai. He wished he didn't. But when they were standing beside each other, talking together or being silent and simply thinking together, things felt so _right_.

Last year, Chris might have been ecstatic at all these positive omens for his and Lorelai's relationship. But now--he'd been married to Lorelai. He had no interest in going through the work of courting her all over again, only to be met with another rejection. Sure, Lorelai might seem interested now. But that was the way she'd seemed last year—right up until the day they'd married.

Maybe he could ask her to something innocuous. Something that could fit either friendship, or romance. But then he had to deal with Melanie.

Chris groaned inwardly. He didn't want to give Melanie up. He really liked her. But the truth was, he'd been thinking ten times as much about Lorelai as Melanie in the last few days. And worst of all of Richard's words seemed to have imbedded themselves in his mind.

As had the way Lorelai had looked standing across the room at that birthday party.


	11. Chapter 11

After coming back from a walk with Melanie, Christopher was dragging his feet as he entered his apartment. Melanie had been talking a lot, and he'd been listening—or pretending to. But his mind had wandered far more than he wanted to admit. As a matter of fact, Chris hadn't been able to concentrate on Melanie since talking to Richard…or maybe since even a couple of days before that. Since that birthday party.

As much as Chris liked Melanie—and he really did—he thought about her a lot less than he thought about Lorelai. His brain was dragging along with his feet as he slowly took off his shoes. Chris reflected vaguely that his relationship with Melanie was like buying a new pair of shoes. They were your favourite style and colour, and you liked them—you really liked them. You admired them frequently. But when it came to going out the door the next day, you put on your older, more comfortable pair without thinking twice. As much as your new shoes perfectly fit your specifications, for some inexplicable reason, you always wore your old pair.

What was the point of dating Melanie when, as much as he truly liked her, his mind—if not his heart—always seemed to be preoccupied with a past relationship?

Thoughts of last year were haunting Chris at times he least expected them. He remembered how he'd believed Lorelai was really happy when they were together, only to discover months later that she'd been regretting the break-up Luke all along. He would never wish that feeling—the dawning realization of being second choice—on anyone, friend or enemy. Yet unless he was able to shake off these constant thoughts about Lorelai, Chris was at risk of making Melanie eventually feel exactly the way he'd felt last year. When he was with Melanie, Chris was just as happy with her as Lorelai had appeared to be with him. It was just that as soon as Melanie left his sight, she almost as quickly left his mind.

Melanie trusted him so fully. He didn't want to ruin that trust. Better to tell her honestly now that he didn't see them ever becoming more than friends, than go along with a charade of a relationship only to break it off months later, or wait until Melanie realized the truth for herself and started to hate him.

There was definitely an eerie similarity between what he was doing to Melanie, and what Lorelai had done to him. But that wasn't all that was bothering Chris. Richard's words about marriage, about staying committed to his relationship with Lorelai, kept ringing in his mind.

Chris knew Lorelai regretted ending their marriage. He could see it written all over her face when she looked at him. The regrets and wishful thinking were there in the admiring glances she'd given Chris at Gigi's play, in the look of pain on her face when she'd seen him with Melanie, and in her quiet hints later that evening that every other man at the party couldn't measure up to him. Chris had been trying to push those hints out of his mind by repeatedly reminding himself that he was moving on with his life, that he was going to be strong and not let Lorelai interfere with his decisions again.

But Chris had more than a nagging suspicion that he wasn't being strong at all, but was instead childishly hiding from problems he should have tackled head-on. Last year, he'd been so convinced that he and Lorelai were meant to be together that he'd pursued her single-mindedly, without letting anything stand in his way. When he'd finally married her, he'd made a commitment for life.

Sure, Lorelai had given up on the commitment—he hadn't. But what did it say about his character that when she showed interest in reconciling, he—the man who'd told her he'd wait for her until they were both eighty—wouldn't even consider giving her a second chance? He'd promised to stand by Lorelai for the rest of his life, yet after a few months, he was running from every hint that she might want him to follow through on his promise after all.

Rory had blurted something out this past summer which she'd obviously instantly regretted, but which he'd nevertheless heard. "Dad, it's just like Mom said: you avoid conflict." Suddenly Chris had gained a flash of insight into Lorelai's mind. She'd believed that whenever things got tough, he wouldn't stand up for her—he'd hide or run away. And when Chris had realized he might be her second choice, running away was exactly what he'd done. He should have been a regular visitor at the hospital, for Richard and Rory's sake, if not Lorelai's. But in his defense, seeing Luke there had been an enormous blow to his self-respect. Crushed, Christopher hadn't been able to put his own wounds aside in time to support his family.

Chris knew that he often tried to avoid emotional situations, but he didn't think his feelings or responses were always unjustified. Even though he knew very well he should have spent more time with Rory in her childhood, it had always hurt him to see Rory thriving under Lorelai's care as though he wasn't needed at all. It hurt to see Lorelai leading a single life in Stars Hollow because she believed he couldn't support her. Seeing Lorelai, his wife, gaze longingly at everything connected with another man while systematically shutting down every suggestion of building a new life with her husband, had stung him beyond description.

Christopher held his head in his hands. He had a lot of hurt feelings when it came to Lorelai. But the truth was, as long as he nursed the pain and harboured the bitterness and avoided dealing with the unresolved issues from his two-month marriage, he was living proof that he really wasn't man enough to be a good husband.

Clearly, he and Lorelai weren't finished. Maybe they'd never be finished. Maybe they really would keep going back and forth like this until they were both eighty. If so, then so be it. Lorelai might have come to him the night she'd broken up with Luke, but Christopher had initiated everything that had followed. He was the one who'd called her, pursued her, confessed his love and told her he'd wait for her until they were both eighty. He was the one who'd orchestrated the romantic dates and the Paris dinner, the one who'd proposed, and the one who'd made a lifelong commitment. If he'd been willing to put so much effort into a relationship, he also had to be willing to deal with the consequences when it fell apart. If he'd wanted Lorelai so badly, he couldn't simply walk away when dealing with her became too difficult. He had to see his tangled relationship with Lorelai through to the end—if there even was an end—no matter how difficult and unrewarding the effort would be.

The first thing to do was to talk to Melanie. Chris sighed. It wouldn't be pleasant, but already he felt a burden off his shoulders. As much as it might hurt to see Melanie's face when he told her, it would hurt both of them far worse if he kept this relationship going indefinitely while his heart wasn't in it.

* * *

Ending his relationship with Melanie had been painful, but Chris was glad it was over. He'd told Melanie the truth—that he didn't see them as becoming any more than friends. And Melanie had taken it very graciously, like the lady she was. Maybe she'd guessed something about him and Lorelai, no matter how hard Chris had tried to hide it. She was a very perceptive woman. Chris sincerely hoped they could still be friends, even though he thought he might have ruined any chance of that. It seemed to be the story of his life: he never quite seemed to have the right instincts when it came to relationships.

Yet here he was, sitting by his telephone, hoping against past history that he was making the right decision when it came to Lorelai. Hanging around in the background for years had only caused him to lose Lorelai to other men; but being too forceful had led to a failed marriage. Somehow, Chris knew he had to strike a balance between being passive and proactive. Somehow he had to court Lorelai without falling letting his emotions run away with him and then ending up flat on his face. Lorelai always seemed to take control when it came to their relationship, and somehow Chris had to figure out a way to be the one who called the shots once in a while.

Lorelai answered after five rings, sounding out of breath.

"Hello."

"Hi. You're not training for the Boston Marathon, by any chance?"

"I was chasing the paperboy. If I don't get out there in time, he throws my paper in the garden and then I swear he steps on it to spite me."

"Quite the paper delivery service you've got in that town."

"I know, I'm thinking of getting Google Alerts. Skip the bad news and go straight to the entertainment section."

"Sounds like a plan."

"So what's new? How's Gigi?"

"Gigi is great. I've just been going through phone numbers trying to find a babysitter for Sunday night."

"Ah-ha, and my number just popped into your head."

"Well, Sunday nights are getting popular for people to go out. Babysitters are few and far between on Sunday nights."

"So what's Sunday night? Let me guess, you're taking Melanie to the Ritz because it's your one-month anniversary."

"Ah, no."

"The Mayflower Inn, and the two of you are going to wear period costume so you can tip your top hat to her and kiss her delicate hand."

"There's not going to be any top-hat-tipping."

"Oh, you're just going to the casino to win a million bucks so Melanie can give it all to charity."

"Lor, Melanie and I aren't together anymore."

"You're not?"

"No, we ah…we decided we were better friends."

"Oh. Okay. Um, just for peace of mind—did my mother's little speech in the gazebo contribute to that decision?"

"No."

"Okay, good, just checking. Because I mean, Chris, I'd never try to get between you and someone you wanted to date."

"I know you wouldn't."

"My mom was just being—"

"Your mother."

"Selfish and vindictive and convinced I'm about to commit a cardinal sin the minute she turns her back."

"She does have a way about her."

"So you and Melanie—that wasn't anything that anyone…"

"No, no, it wasn't really anything at all."

"Right. You're not just saying that and actually sitting there with a box of Kleenex and a bottle of aspirin, are you?"

"No, I think I'm gonna be all right."

"Okay, good, so I don't have to bring tequila with my _Green Eggs and Ham_ when I come to babysit on Sunday night."

"Actually, I've got a babysitter lined up."

"Oh."

"Yeah, she's twelve years old, her name is Nan and she lives right across the road."

"A twelve year-old named Nan? You haven't been reading the Bobbsey Twins again, have you?"

"I assure you I have proof from her parents that not only is her name Nan, but she passed her babysitter's course with flying colours."

"So you do not need me to babysit."

"No, I've got that base covered."

"Okay."

"Actually, I was calling because I've got two tickets to a Police concert on Sunday night and I thought that on the off-chance that you were interested…"

"Chris."

"Yes?"

"This better not be a joke."

"You should see my straight face."

"Chris, nobody can get tickets to a Police Reunion concert! It's been sold out forever. Getting tickets to a Police concert is like trying to watch Snakes on a Plane after you hated it the first time, it gets harder and harder with time."

"Yet here I am with two tickets in my hand."

"I don't know what to say."

"Good. All you have to say is yes or no. Will you be ready to leave at five on Sunday night?"

There was an unusually long pause. Chris grinned, thinking he must have done something right, because leaving Lorelai at a loss for words was quite an accomplishment.

"Lorelai."

"Yes, I'll be there on Sunday and I'll be ready at five, and if you are leading me on, this is the cruelest hoax you have ever played on me and I will not forgive you."

"It's a date. I'll see you Sunday."

Chris hung up the phone. Lorelai's eyes were shining with excitement as she hung up the phone. Because of the Police concert, definitely.

But had Chris really said, "It's a _date,_" before he hung up the phone?


	12. Chapter 12

All through the rest of the week, Lorelai's thoughts were turning around a central theme—Sunday night. Before Chris had called, she'd almost given up hope. Not only had Chris been with Melanie, but he seemed committed to that relationship, no matter how many subtle signals Lorelai sent. She hadn't really wanted to acknowledge the possibility, but she had been all-too-keenly aware that her romantic chances with Chris might have finally run out. Lorelai was becoming grateful simply for Christopher's friendship. She even told herself that if she and Chris were never anything more than friends, it was more than she really deserved after rejecting him.

That was before Chris had told her he'd ended things with Melanie, and before he'd offered to take her all the way to Boston for a Police Reunion concert. By Sunday, Lorelai had completely forgotten that she'd ever been prepared to accept mere friendship with Chris. For days, her mind had been running through the evening's romantic possibilities.

At five-ten on Sunday evening, Lorelai was checking and re-touching her make-up, patting her hair, glancing at her watch, and wondering if the outfit she had chosen would be warm enough, flattering enough, casual enough. Eventually, checking her watch for a fourth time, she wondered more than anything why Christopher was late.

Then she heard a car in the driveway. She ran down the stairs, flinging open the door a second after he rang the doorbell.

"Hi!"

Christopher stood on her doorstep, looking wonderful in his jacket and dress pants. In her current state of mind, Lorelai would have thought Christopher looked wonderful if he'd stepped out of a mudslide or arrived fresh from a week in the wilderness. She wondered what Christopher thought of how _she_ looked.

"Hi." Christopher's eyes glanced over Lorelai briefly, betraying nothing, although he was smiling. "You ready?"

"You're late."

Christopher grinned, wearing an innocent look. "What? No. It's five-twenty."

Lorelai tugged on her coat as Christopher moved behind her to help her. Lorelai squirmed, trying to turn around so she could see him. "Yes. And I think I've finally gotten the big hand-little-hand thing down pat, so that happens to be twenty minutes later than five o'clock. "

"Did I say five o'clock?"

"You did. And I was ready at five to five because unlike some people, I did not want to miss my first Police concert ever."

"And here we are, leaving right on time," said Christopher, as they exited the house.

"Oh, I see. This is one of those airport tricks."

Christopher had his tongue in his cheek as he walked Lorelai down to his car. "Airport tricks?"

"Oh, you know, when you tell me our flight is leaving at 3:30 and it's actually leaving three hours later."

Christopher's tongue was still firmly planted in his cheek, but his smile was widening. "That's not a trick, that's called a necessary ruse."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, because if I said five-thirty you'd still be trying to force-feed Paul Anka his vitamins at five-twenty-nine."

"You have so little faith in me."

Christopher's eyes twinkled at her as they buckled themselves into their seats. "I know you."

"What did I bring in my bag with me tonight?"

Christopher glanced at the bulging pink bag beside Lorelai. "A camera, a sweater, another pair of shoes, some snacks, a couple of water bottles, your Police Synchronicity T-shirt…"

"Aha! You got that one wrong."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you're going to a Police concert and you didn't bring that T-shirt."

"Even in the unlikely possibility that I brought it, it's staying far away from you."

"Hey, I returned it the last time I borrowed it."

"Chris, a day is a borrow. Twenty years is grand theft. Especially when your best friend who trusts you totally looks you straight in the eye and you say you haven't seen it."

"The T-shirt isn't coming out of that bag all night, huh?"

"This bag is staying in my hand all night."

Christopher glanced over at Lorelai with a mischievous look.

* * *

The concert was amazing, of course. Lorelai loved every minute of it. She'd enjoyed The Police in her adolescence, and so had Chris. It was thrilling to be able to finally hear the band play live, after over twenty years, and to discover that the band members were just as talented as ever. But even more thrilling was the fact that that she was there with someone who'd seen the very beginning of her love for 80s rock bands, and who twenty years later seemed to be enjoying the concert just as much as she was.

Of course, she would have jumped at the chance to attend a Police concert under any circumstances. But being with Chris made the night twice as special. The noise made any real conversation impossible, an inevitability of concerts which never failed to frustrate Lorelai, who didn't know how it was possible for people to spend a whole evening doing something they enjoyed without keeping up a verbal play-by-play. But with Chris, it didn't matter that neither of them could really hear each other's voice. She was able to talk to him just using her eyes—and receive perfect comprehension and an unspoken response in return.

The concert ended, but the music stayed in Lorelai's head. Two minutes from home, as Chris drove into Stars Hollow, Lorelai was singing—although only half bothering to follow the tune.

"We could walk forever, walking on the moon, we could live together, walking on, walking on the moon."

"I'm not sure if you're saying the lyrics or describing your current state of mind," Chris remarked.

"Don't mock me. I saw you sitting there mouthing the words to "Every Little Thing."

"That Sting still plays a mean guitar."

"Five times meaner live."

"So you don't regret the hour and a half drive to and from Boston?"

"No, as long as you don't regret spending it with someone who can't keep their mouth shut for two seconds."

"I think I'm used to it after thirty years."

"Oh! Did you notice how gray Stewart Copeland had gotten?"

"Happens to the best of us."

"You're not gray."

"Maybe I use Just for Men to keep the gray away."

"I thought I ran away from the world of toupees and Just for Men. Remind me why I'm hanging around with you?"

"Ah, you knew I was the last living link between old-school Hartford and hip Boston."

The car pulled in the driveway, and Lorelai, glancing at Chris tentatively, saw that he was about to unbuckle his seatbelt. Smiling, she stepped out of the car and joined Christopher, walking alongside him up the steps. When they reached the door, Lorelai paused, and Chris did the same, facing her.

"You want to come inside?" she asked cautiously. "I mean, 'cause I have this state-of-the-art flat screen TV that's just sitting there in my house and it seems like a shame for just one person to use it. "

"It does," Christopher agreed.

"And I was thinking that maybe we could flip through the channels and see if the news is reporting the concert somewhere. And if we see ourselves cheering we can pretend it's not us and mock the crazy fans."

"We could."

"Or we could just have some coffee. Doose's had a giant sale in May and I stocked up because I thought Rory was going to be home. So now I have a year's supply of Colombian coffee beans that I have to consume all by myself, and despite my coffee-drinking powers, the tenth cup a day is the limit."

"And you don't want all that good coffee to go to waste."

"So what do you say?"

"I say that wonderful as that sounds, coffee would probably keep me up and tomorrow is Monday."

"Oh, yeah, Monday. Wonderful day of the week."

"So I think I'm gonna say goodnight."

Lorelai glanced at Chris, and her smile waned. She stepped a little closer to the door and placed her hand on the knob.

"Okay, yeah, goodnight."

Almost before Lorelai realized it, Chris had stepped forwards and caught her waist with one arm.

He was kissing her. Without even thinking, Lorelai closed her eyes, reached her arms up and wrapped them around Christopher's neck, the way she often had even when they were teenagers. And even though he was much older, his wavy hair and the back of his neck felt exactly the same as they had twenty years ago and ten years ago and last year. Kissing Chris was familiar and comforting and electric all at once and she didn't want it to end. When Chris broke the kiss, Lorelai leaned in unthinkingly for another one; but Chris didn't seem to be there. Lorelai's eyes flew open. Chris had already detached from her and was stepping backwards down the steps.

He looked back at her with a little smile. "Good night, Lor."

Lorelai blinked, trying to re-orient herself. It took a few seconds: she wasn't even sure if Chris had already turned towards his car before she managed to smile. "Bye, Chris."

With a backwards look and a wave, he disappeared into the shadows of the starlit yard.

Settled back into his car and on the road home, Chris realized how much his heart was pounding. If he hadn't carefully planned to kiss Lorelai and then break away from her almost immediately afterwards, he might not have been able to break away. Lorelai had definitely been willing…very willing. He'd felt her heart pounding right along with his, and with Rory out of the house and with their emotions running high after the concert…

With him and Lorelai, a kiss was never just a kiss. He admired his own willpower tonight. The only problem was, it was going to be harder to keep it up. As great as it had been to be with her tonight, Chris was determined to maintain a certain amount of distance between himself and Lorelai for awhile. It seemed like whenever Lorelai got everything she wanted, she either took it for granted or didn't want it anymore. Chris didn't want to give Lorelai anything she wanted too easily. He was going to dictate the pace of this relationship. At least, he was going to try.


	13. Chapter 13

Lorelai spent the next day waiting for Chris to call. After that kiss, there wasn't any doubt in her mind: they were on their way back to each other. Lorelai's mind was running all day long through dreams of how perfect everything was going to be now. Chris was going to be pleasantly surprised when he saw how much she'd changed, how much she really wanted to be with him now and how little opposition she was going to put up to anything he suggested. It gave her a warm glow just thinking about it. She couldn't wait to make Chris happy, couldn't wait to see a surprised smile light up his face when she showed how good she was at compromising, how eager and willing she finally was to let him into her life.

And of course, she could hardly wait to see what. He'd been so sweet to her last year, and she'd barely appreciated it. She wondered what he had up his sleeve for the next time? Last year it had been a red convertible and an outdoor movie, a late-night dinner for two in an elegant Paris restaurant, a night in an expensive hotel in the most romantic city in the world...Lorelai couldn't actually imagine how Chris was going to top some of the things he'd done for her last year, but she was looking forward to finding out.

When he didn't call the next day, Lorelai was more than a little disappointed. He had to follow up that unexpected kiss somehow, didn't he? That grin on his face as he left her front porch meant that he had planned it. What was going on, anyway? Was he having second thoughts?

On the morning of the third day since the concert, Lorelai couldn't stand it anymore. She couldn't imagine any reason why he wouldn't have called. Now her imagination was running away with her. Maybe something had happened to Chris on the way home. It was a scary thought, but possible.

At work, whenever someone wasn't directly talking to her, Lorelai's mind was wandering. Shortly before noon, she was tapping her fingers at her desk, staring abstractedly at the wallpaper, when Michel entered with a slightly disgruntled look on his face.

"Lorelai, the woman in room 206 is complaining about the draft. She says the temperature reminds her of her days drilling for Arctic oil."

"Ah, yes. You know that little box on the wall called the thermostat? Crank it up."

"Secondly, we've had a letter of complaint from the woman in 210. It says, and I quote, that she thought she would be staying in a Connecticut inn, not the desert of Arabia."

"Why don't you just drag them both out of their rooms. Then they can debate the temperature till their blood boils and you can sneak out."

"I hear that physical force is grounds for a lawsuit nowadays. How are our accounts looking?"

"I'll talk to the ladies, Michel."

"Lorelai, you're a peach."

Lorelai looked back down at her desk. Her eyes fell on the telephone, and immediately she forgot all about freezing customers and rooms the temperature of the Arabian desert. Realizing she could check her messages by calling home, she began dialing her home number on her cell phone. Catching her breath, she listened.

No messages.

Lorelai's face was crestfallen. She made up her mind to call Chris.

Sookie walked past with a tray as Lorelai was staring at the wall in deep distraction, unseeing, listening to the phone at her ear.

One ring. Two. Three. Four. Five...

Oh, of course Chris wasn't home. He was at work. She couldn't believe she had actually dialed his number without realizing that. Lorelai laid her phone down on her desk, but her eyes remained focused on the wall. On her way back to the kitchen, Sookie glanced at Lorelai. Then she stopped.

"Are you going to sit and count every crack in that wall, or do you just want me to go call the plaster man?"

"Oh, no, I wasn't looking. I mean I was looking but I wasn't seeing."

"I knew that. You were dialing numbers into your cell phone and looking sad."

"You call this a sad face?"

"Not the very fake grin plastered on your face right now, the 'why didn't George Clooney return my phone calls' look on your face five seconds ago."

"I've got to start writing the instructions for my face in Japanese, because it obviously doesn't understand English."

"Is everything all right with Rory?"

"Rory is fine, I think she's Barak O'Bama's right hand reporter right now."

"So that sad look was not about Rory."

"We're still not proof positive on the existence of this look."

"That look wouldn't have anything to do with Christopher being at your house at 12:45 am on Sunday night, would it?"

"Since when did your name become Mata Hari?"

"I heard from Miss Patty."

"Miss Patty watches my house at 12:45 am?"

"Apparently she goes for walks when she can't sleep."

"This totally explains Mr. McGregor's haunted house!"

"And it totally explains why Christopher was at your house at 12:45 am!"

"See, Chris and I have this parent thing..."

"Which requires him to be at your house at a quarter to one in the morning?"

"We were coming back from a concert."

"Ooh, I love hearing about concerts. How come I didn't hear about this concert?"

"Seven o'clock comes early when you go to bed at one."

"Uh-huh."

"And without sleep all the memories are just wiped out."

"In other words, your not telling me about this concert was because of amnesia and not Christopher."

"Exactly."

"So you're not seeing Christopher again."

"I see Christopher. We're friends. We're parents. We shared our first glass of cognac."

"Lorelai."

"Sookie, I don't know what you want me to say!"

"Just don't say, 'I slept with Christopher.' "

"I didn't sleep with Christopher."

"Good. Because you've said that a couple of times before, and it never led to a happy ending."

"Sookie, I know you don't want me with Chris."

"No, no. It's not that I don't want you with Chris. I'm just not sure that you want you with Chris."

"Okay, you lost me at the fifth pronoun."

"Listen, Lorelai, I know you and Chris have a bond. But you saw Luke practically every day for ten years."

"I saw Christopher almost every day for eleven years."

"That's different. You knew Christopher when you were kids. But Luke is the one who gave you your coffee, your ice skating rink, your chuppah…you still have the chuppah, right?"

"Yeah, I still have the chuppah. It's in my backyard renamed as "Memorial to a Fallen Relationship."

"See, that's why I think you sold Luke short."

"I sold Luke short?"

"Christopher wanders in and out of your life for twenty years and you take him back just like that, but you can't even forgive Luke for one big fight."

"Luke and I forgave. We forgot. We moved on. I told you, we didn't break up over hard feelings."

"It's not too late to call him."

"Actually, I think it's 10:20 am in New Mexico."

"No, I meant, I bet if you told Luke you missed him and you couldn't sleep without him, he would come back on American Airlines straight out of there."

"Sookie. Luke and I are friends. We telephone. We e-mail. There was a brief April-induced flirtation with msn. But we're not going to date again."

"But Luke is Luke, and you're Lorelai. Of all the two people in this town who were meant to be together, you two are just…"

"We're just Michaela and Sully all over again. No, I've got a good love story, how about Beauty and the Beast?"

"No, no! Not that you aren't beautiful, and Luke does have does have that unshaven grumpy thing going on, but that man cuts a fine figure in a pair of jeans, if you get my meaning."

"Sookie, you're married!"

"Happily married. But if I ever thought I had a chance with Luke…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Honey, if this were Beauty and the Beast, I'd be Mrs. Potts. Don't try to deny it! Remember the teapot song?"

"Sookie, if you wanted Luke, you could have gone after him. I would not have said a thing, especially when I was dating Max, and Chris, and Jason."

"But that would have ruined the fun of watching it all unfold in the third-person."

"I should have known! You and Miss Patty and Babette and every other female in this town just want me to fulfill your Luke fantasies for you."

"That's crazy. Although, I've always been dying to ask, does Luke shave shirtless or does he wear an undershirt?"

"I don't know, why didn't you just look through the bathroom window?"

"Lorelai!"

"No, not 'Lorelai!' 'Sookie!' Are you telling me the only reason you want me and Luke together is so that you can fantasize about how perfect it would be if you were me? And if, God forbid, Jackson wore flannel and flipped pancakes all day?"

"No! Well, yes. I mean, no!"

"Well that's a definitive maybe."

"No. What I mean is…I've known you for a long time."

"We go back to the days of padded shoulders and Crowded House."

"Right! And I've known Luke for a long time, and I just thought, wouldn't it be great if two people who I care about so much got together? And then they could care about each other as much as I care about them!"

"But Sookie, what if there just wasn't that spark?"

"But all those days of bickering in Luke's diner and pretending you weren't interested and flirting over the counter…"

"Were just flirting."

"You were engaged!"

"And we got unengaged. And I married Christopher."

"You're saying there's that spark with Christopher."

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I don't know. Maybe. If there was, would you get on board?"

Sookie looked vaguely guilty. "When I said I was getting on board with your marriage I didn't get on a hundred percent, did I?"

"Not quite."

"Okay, okay, I'll admit it. I was mad that you didn't stay with Luke. I spent a lot of time and effort drumming up support for you and Luke. I spent a long time trying to stay neutral in the ribbon campaign."

"You deserve a medal for the trenches."

"And I guess I'm a little mad that you married some guy from your past who I didn't even know, who wasn't there for Rory, who let you down big time at my wedding."

"I know. I know."

"But you're my friend. I want you to be happy."

"You're a great friend. A biased friend, but a great friend."

"So tell me honestly. My question about Chris being the one, the night you guys split up…how much did that have to do with your marriage break-up?"

"Oh, I don't know. Combined with Luke's custody letter and my dad's heart attack and Chin-Chin's funeral I think your question was somewhere between 1 and 49 percent of the equation."

"Lorelai, I know I wasn't 100 percent in favour of your marriage but believe me, I'd never try to end your marriage just because I didn't like the guy you married."

"No. I know. It wasn't you. It was me."

"I just wasn't sure if Chris was the guy for you. I mean, him waltzing in and out of Stars Hollow three or four times in my memory does not a bosom friendship make."

"Maybe if you got to know him…"

Sookie sighed and looked at Lorelai compassionately.

"The end of your marriage wasn't really the end, huh?"

"I guess not."

"He still makes your heart go pitter-patter after twenty years."

"It's more like a freight train."

"That's so romantic. I wish I could think it was romantic."

"Hey, I don't even know if it's romantic."

"The sad look?"

"We went to a concert on Sunday night and he hasn't called me since."

"Okay, so you want to get him back, right? So the first thing you do is figure out if he's playing hard to get, or if he has food poisoning, or if he hated the way you mocked his driving…"

"Excuse me, but this is not a venue to idly fritter away time, this is a business. And if I recall, you two are both employees of this business."

Sookie and Lorelai turned to stare at Michel, who was looking at them disapprovingly from the other side of the desk.

"Michel, do you ever have any fun?" teased Lorelai.

"I took Paw-Paw to his annual resort holiday today. A spa. Massage. Haute cuisine for dogs. My fun in life is seeing to others' happiness."

Sookie gasped and gave Lorelai a meaningful look. "Michel, you and I were born under the same star."

"You were born under Zeta Aquila? That distresses me. If you'll excuse me, I need to go verify the hour and moment of my birth with my mother, because I have a feeling one of us is deeply misinformed."


	14. Chapter 14

Lorelai arrived home a couple of hours late from the Dragonfly, after working overtime to catch up on the time she'd spent talking to Sookie and mulling over why Chris hadn't called her. Talking to Sookie, and going for a walk during her lunch hour, had somehow cleared Lorelai's head, at least slightly. Still, she hadn't been working late just because she needed to catch up on work. Well, she had needed to catch up on work. But there was never anyone to come home to except Paul Anka, and Lorelai didn't like the fact that even her answering machine might be empty when she got home.

As it turned out, though, as she unlocked her door, she could hear the telephone ringing. Shutting the door behind her, she pulled off her gloves and hurried over to the phone, not bothering to check who was calling.

"Well, look who's finally home!" came Christopher's cheerful voice on the other line.

Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief, pleasure and vague annoyance.

"What do you mean? Look who's finally calling, Mr.-I'll-Take-You to a Police Concert and not call you afterwards to discuss it."

"What, 90 minutes in the car wasn't enough for you?"

"That was the initial reaction discussion. Then there's the post-concert discussion."

"And then, the post-post concert discussion."

"You're catching on."

"Do you think you can handle discussing The Police over Shrek Three and a trip to the park?"

"Oh, Gigi invited me to her slumber party! Tell her thank you for me."

"No, I'm inviting you to Gigi's celebration party on Saturday."

"Oh, what are we celebrating?"

"Graduating to the next level of swimming lessons."

"Ah, she mastered the back float."

"She did, so I thought I'd give the whole class a party, and I'd take you along."

"That sounded like I'm your dog."

"Would you like to come along?"

"Is this going to be a grown-up party at all, or is it just going to be green ogres and plastic slides?"

"I'll see if I can fit something grown-up in there. No hints."

"Okay."

"You're surprisingly agreeable."

"Okay, and you'd better follow through on the grown-up part."

"That's more like it."

"When do I have to be there?"

"Be at my apartment at three."

"Is this real three o'clock, or actually four o'clock?"

"Definitely one or the other."

* * *

Just to be safe, Lorelai was at Christopher's house shortly after three o'clock the next day, and sure enough, a couple of Gigi's little swimming classmates had already assembled in the foyer of the apartment, having been dropped off by their parents. More arrived within minutes. In between herding up little children and blocking their paths into the kitchen, bathroom, and laundry basket, Chris touched Lorelai on the arm.

"Thanks for being here."

"Hey, you invited me."

"I didn't think it was gonna be this out of control."

"Chris. They're five year-olds. Next time, send them to the park first and make them go on the merry-go-round fifty times before you let them in your house."

"Now I remember why I let you raise my daughter."

"Any time."

Chris was suddenly interrupted by a commotion in the next room. "Carter. Carter! No, that fizzy stuff in the bottle is not 7-Up, it's for people to wash their hands when they don't have any water."

"It's probably the alcohol in it that makes it look fizzy," said Lorelai, with an innocent expression on her face.

Chris gave her a look. "That's just what I need this afternoon. Miranda, no, no, when your grandma said you could jump out the window I don't think she was on the third floor of an apartment."

He turned back to Lorelai. "You think you can use some of your years of experience here?"

Lorelai glanced around the room. "Oh no! Gigi! There's a giant vacuum cleaner at the back of the house! Last one to the door is going to get sucked up!"

Six children came running from various corners of the house, shrieking and skidding across the floor. Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Scare tactics, very good."

Lorelai peered around the rest of the apartment. "Great! All of you get a box of Smarties as you go out the door."

There was the instant sound of footfalls, as two more children came running.

"That's for the ones you can't scare."

"Where am I supposed to get the Smarties?!"

Lorelai pretended to be quite surprised. "I don't know, it's your house. You should keep them in stock."

* * *

After the movie and some time in the nearby playground, just as Lorelai had predicted, eight little children had nearly run out of energy—for a few minutes, at least. But a few minutes was all she and Christopher needed to round them up and pile four into each of their cars. Lorelai stood beside the open door of her car as Chris gently pushed the last straggler into the passenger side of his own vehicle. He gave Lorelai the thumbs-up.

"I think we've marshalled the army."

"Good job, Franco. Where to for pizza?"

Chris grinned. "Follow me."

Lorelai was quite comfortable following Chris for the next couple of miles, but her thoughts mingled doubt and curiosity when he drove into a subdivision. Lorelai furrowed her face, but she doubted Chris saw it in his rearview mirror. Anyway, she couldn't see his expression.

She was more baffled still when Chris pulled into the driveway of a large, very new three-story home with a surprisingly sizable front yard. The he parked and got out, turning look back at her. Lorelai parked beside him and jumped out.

"Don't tell me you were too much of a man to ask for directions."

Chris smiled. "No."

"Honey, I hate to break it to you, but this house is not a pizza place."

Chris' grin grew wider as squealing children started to burst out of his car.

"Well no, it's Jeremy's house, and his mom is serving pizza."

Lorelai's eyes widened. Already Chris was distracted, his hands full with four little children in various stages of hunger, impatience and disarray, trying to lug discarded coats and mittens out of the car and dropping everything in the process.

Lorelai turned back to her own car. "Okay, everybody. Grab all hats, coats, scarves and whatever else your mommies saw fit to…And apparently, someone hit the mute button."

Clearly, none of the children had heard her. All of them had already scrambled out of her car at the first word and were already piling up the steps, where Jeremy was insistently ringing the doorbell. Lorelai wandered up to Chris, who was tugging mittens and garbage from behind the seats.

"Very clever plan. You're sure your last name isn't da Vinci?"

Chris turned back to smile at her.

"Who was it that accused me of getting lost?"

"Okay, I admit, you were not lost. Christopher Colombus should have had you on board."

She waited for a second, watching Chris rummaging unhurriedly.

"You coming?"

Chris, his hands full but his expression unperturbed, glanced at her. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, you were obviously doing yogic meditation so you didn't notice, but I just spent two hours running from one end of a playground to the other." She took his arm playfully. "I'm hungry! Let's get some pizza."

"Wait, did I say you and I were eating here?"

Lorelai's jaw dropped. "But the kids..."

"Ah, they'll be fine. But if you have a craving for pizza…"

"Now you're putting words in my mouth. No, I just don't want to be accused of single-handedly creating the inspiration for Home Alone Five."

"Let's go ring that doorbell and put your mind at ease," Chris replied, slamming the driver's door shut and heading towards the house. Lorelai, eyes sparkling, followed at his side.

"So where are we eating? We are eating?"

"I told them to put the singing and dancing and live entertainment on hold until you're fed."

"Singing and dancing, very Broadway. I'm liking the hints so far."

"You might want to reign in your imagination slightly," answered Chris, ringing the doorbell.

A short brunette woman opened the door. Behind her, a man and two teenagers were hanging up coats and leading children towards an expansive kitchen at the opposite end of the house.

"Reinforcements," said Lorelai. "I should have thought of that."

The woman smiled. "Hi, I'm Mary Bistrovich. I've met Christopher, and you must be Lorelai."

"Lorelai wanted to make sure you had everything under control," said Christopher.

"I just didn't want you to think we were pulling an orphan Annie and leaving you with several unruly children. Not that you look like you couldn't handle many more, much wilder children."

"Don't you worry, everything is fine here. I've got games, I've got videos, and I've got six helping hands. You and your husband go have a good time."

Startled, Lorelai glanced over at Chris; but he was standing halfway inside the house, distributing the remaining hats and mittens. He stepped back out, and she gave him a faint, pink-cheeked smile. Mrs. Bistrovich beamed at the two of them, and Chris turned to Lorelai.

"What do you say? You think we can risk leaving Gigi here for two hours or so?"

Lorelai's fingers found their way to Christopher's. "You going to show me this live entertainment that stops slightly short of Broadway?"

Chris smiled at Mrs. Bistrovich, who was slowly closing the door, beaming amiably. "We'll see you around eight." As the door shut, his hand closed lightly around Lorelai's. He looked at Lorelai, and she looked at him for a second. But the glow of pleasure that had settled in her cheeks was embarrassingly warm, and she quickly looked down again at the walkway, a little smile playing around the corners of her lips. The same smile was mirrored on Christopher's face as he ushered her to his car.

* * *

In the dim lighting of the restaurant, Lorelai was gazing around the ceiling at several burned-out bulbs.

"So, not Broadway," said Christopher, pulling in his chair.

"Not quite," answered Lorelai.

"And no singing, dancing, or live entertainment."

"Unless you count Ella Fitzgerald playing in the background."

"Somehow I suspect this place hasn't been updated in a while."

"You don't think these Norman Rockwell paintings are new?"

"That would depend on your definition of new."

"Well, what perspective am I looking at it from? The last few years, the last several decades, the previous century?"

"I should never have gone with a recommendation from a guy at my work fresh out of college."

"Hey, do I look disappointed?"

"It's kind of hard to see in this haze."

"I have a smile on my face right now. The shiny white things glowing in the dark are my teeth."

"I was hoping that's what they were."

"Chris really, all I was looking for was a plate of food and something with an over-eighteen age limit. Actually, over twelve would've been good."

"Once square meal in peace and quiet does have its own price tag."

"And the company doesn't hurt, either."

"No?"

"No, the meal in peace and quiet is a little over-rated, anyway. After the first month you start talking to imaginary guests, or, in my case, a Polish sheepdog."

"I may have to take you out for dinner more often. As long as you don't mind the eight o'clock Gigi curfew."

"Curfews aren't all bad. Curfews can be good. Especially when you've got a Miss Patty in your town."

"Uh-oh, let me guess. Miss Patty turns into the Joker by night."

"No, at night Miss Patty has a habit of walking the streets."

"Eccentric, but hardly dangerous."

"Ah, but last Sunday she was apparently walking past my house and she saw you pull up. And she saw you leave."

"And the next morning she knocked on the door and called you a woman of loose morals."

"No, surprisingly enough, Miss Patty woke up with a bad cold on Monday, and she wasn't seen or heard from for the rest of the week."

"I'm not surprised. It was twenty-eight degrees out there."

"But, Miss Patty did talk to Sookie before she took to her bed."

"So what did Sookie have to say about my midnight visit?"

"First of all, it was apparently ten to one in the morning, and second, Sookie's main concern seemed to be about you being a threat to Luke. Actually technically, to her longstanding crush on Luke, which I didn't know she had."

"Hang on a second. Haven't I met Sookie's husband?"

"Kilt, Brigadoon references, farmer who sings to his plants?"

"Yes, it's coming back now. I also seem to remember a man date and a really strange conversation about farming. So Sookie is married."

"Sookie is not only married, Sookie is pregnant."

"Did you just say 'crush on Luke?' "

"In the most innocent sense."

"Clearly, this is where I come into the story."

"Well if you're with me, then I'm not with Luke, and then she can't imagine that she's me and the whole elaborate fantasy falls apart."

"That's impressively logical on Sookie's part. So what did you tell her?"

"Oh, I told her she should have gone and spied on Luke shaving one day and maybe that would help her get over it."

"That could be a dangerous thing to say to a married woman."

"Actually, I reminded her that Luke is in New Mexico."

"I heard that."

"New Mexico is a long way from here. Different time zone, in fact."

"I was in California once, and yet somehow, here I am again. Airplanes, funny things."

"Well, if Luke wanted to move back here, I couldn't actually stop him."

"True, you might need a court order for that."

"But between you and me, I think the chances of Sookie's Luke fantasy coming true are about as good as Coldplay surpassing U2."

Chris nodded grimly, despite the smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. "That's bad. How do you think Sookie's going to take it?"

"I'll have to go over there with a few new recipe books to console her once she finally catches on."

"Tell her the Ritz requested the recipe for her lemon soufflé. That should cheer her up."

"There's a fine line between consolation, and flattery that makes someone impossible to work with for the next month."

"How about Bertucci's Brick Oven? There was a great review about their cooking in the _Hartford Courant_ other day."

"I could tell her I gave this restaurant a sample and they raved about it."

"The Weary Wagonneer?"

"Hey, it's got an original ring. If they had the right advertiser, they could really be a hit. Although they might want to think about playing some music composed in the last fifty years."

"For coffee and dessert? We'll go somewhere else."

* * *

Two and a half hours later, Chris and Lorelai were standing in the entryway of Christopher's apartment. The place was quiet, the sky pitch black outside. Gigi was in her bedroom, changing out of muddy clothes and into her pyjamas.

"So, next time, no recommendations from penny-pinching graduates."

"You give me no credit."

"I'm giving you a new line of credit. But you've got to admit, that restaurant wasn't exactly the greatest grown-up side to the night you could have asked for."

"You don't think going back to the 1930s is grown-up enough?"

Chris smiled down at her. "Okay. Thanks for your help tonight."

"But if you wanted to continue the grown-up part…"

Lorelai leaned forwards and kissed Chris invitingly on the lips. From her room, Gigi called. "Daddy, my socks are all outside in!"

Lorelai rocked back on her heels, disappointment flickering over her face. When she saw Christopher's smile, she returned it.

"I guess I should go try to wean Gigi away from risky fashion choices," he said, digging his thumbs into his pockets.

"I could stay and help you put her to bed."

Christopher raised an eyebrow. "If you stay, she won't get to bed. She'll spend the rest of the night talking to you."

Lorelai took a step closer to Christopher and took both his hands.

"Well, talking is one of the few things they could give me an award for. I can teach Gigi tricks of the trade she never knew."

From the bedroom came the high-pitched cry: "And you forgot to wash my kangaroo pyjamas!"

"That's it, you need to do an intervention," said Lorelai in amusement tinged with annoyance.

Chris laughed. "You've got to admit, she makes a great chaperone."

Lorelai cocked her head, and Chris looked at her quizzically.

"Give me five seconds and I'll have a good comeback."

Chris, chuckling, wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer. He kissed her lightly, and then, seeing Lorelai's smile, he forgot his better intentions and kissed her again. This kiss lasted much longer. For a few seconds, the apartment was completely silent except for the low humming of the heater, the ticking of a clock somewhere in another room, and a faint sound in the back of Lorelai's throat. Her hand found its way up to the collar of Christopher's shirt and held on, and she pressed closer to him. When Chris drew back, Lorelai was smiling, her eyes slightly dazed.

"That should help clear up the mental fog," she remarked.

Chris grinned and released his hold on her waist.

"Hey, I need more help than that," Lorelai protested, one hand still fingering Christopher's shirt. Christopher wrapped his hand around hers and gently brought it down.

"Say goodbye to Lorelai, Gigi!" Chris called.

There was the sound of scrambling around in Gigi's room, and Lorelai finally stepped back.

"You haven't seen the last of me," she said teasingly.

"Well, if you insist, I'll tell my cleaning lady that you'll be coming by a couple times this week to water the plants and fold my laundry."

"Okay, I think we need to go back and clarify something."

Gigi came hopping up, clad in something fuzzy and brown and distinctly animal-like. Lorelai bent down. "Gigi! Those look like very comfortable pyjamas, but I think we need to have a little talk about fashion."


	15. Chapter 15

On Monday, Lorelai was sitting at her desk at work, enjoying the November sunshine streaming through her window, and glancing idly at her calendar. Then she froze.

Today was November 19. Her wedding anniversary.

It hadn't been much of a wedding. It had been even less of a marriage. But for some reason, she had never forgotten the date. In fact, in the last few weeks, Lorelai had been keenly aware that the date was approaching again, and she'd felt apprehensive and uneasy whenever she'd thought about it. As the weather changed to fall, it evoked memories of last year. For a long time, they'd been mercifully blocked; but now they were filtering through again. Few of them were pleasant. Lorelai had been deeply annoyed that suddenly, even her best efforts couldn't stop them from resurfacing.

But ever since Chris had asked her to the Police Reunion concert, her present-day life had been so engrossing that she had completely forgotten about November 19…until this morning.

Lorelai felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, and shoved the calendar away, far to the back of her desk.

But she couldn't shove the thoughts to the back of her mind. Should she expect Christopher to call? Even if he did call, he wouldn't mention the date. They hadn't once talked about their marriage since separating—not even since rekindling their romance. Not even when Mary Bistrovich had referred to Chris as her husband. Had she assumed, or had Chris said something?

Lorelai didn't know, and she was afraid to ask. It was as though their marriage had never even happened.

In one way, maybe it hadn't. The marriage hadn't been legal in the United States: she'd found that much out within a few weeks. The single time she'd mentioned it to Chris, very casually, Chris had shrugged it off. They were saying their vows again in a few weeks at Emily's wedding party, weren't they? That marriage was definitely going to be legal. In the meantime, did it really matter what the state thought? The two of them had meant what they had said in France, and that was all that mattered.

But maybe she hadn't fully meant what she'd said in France. Actually, looking at the way she'd acted afterwards, remembering the way she'd felt, Lorelai knew she hadn't been comfortable with her marriage right from the start. That was more than part of the reason she'd balked at saying the vows again in front of hundreds of people—because that time, it would be real. And she hadn't wanted anything to be real, then.

Now, of course, Lorelai was ashamed of what a joke their marriage had been. She was sure Christopher was, too. That was why he hadn't broached the subject. Even if she happened to talk to Christopher today, their conversation would never touch on the date; they'd skirt the issue completely. Maybe, as passionate as he'd been about their marriage, Christopher didn't even remember. No one else knew the date. Today was going to be just like any other day…except for the constantly resurfacing memories reminding her that last year, this day had been life-changing.

* * *

Despite the sunshine, the day was bitterly cold, especially in the waning afternoon. Lorelai was shivering as she turned her key in the lock and stepped inside her house. The house was as cold, dark and empty of human presence as it always was when she returned home from work. An unexpected sensation of disappointment washed over Lorelai. Then she realized that despite her best intentions, she'd still been half-wanting, even expecting something to be different today. Everything had been so different last year. She should have been a happily married woman by now, coming home to Chris and Gigi and a lit house. Instead, not even Paul Anka had seen fit to greet her today.

The phone rang, jolting Lorelai from her reverie. She picked it up.

"Hello, Mom."

"Lorelai. I thought you might be home."

"Yeah, I'm usually home around five. It's some sort of weird side-effect of having a nine-to-five job."

"Well, I'm glad your hours are reasonable. You still have time to come out shopping with me for new Thanksgiving decorations."

"Not to put a damper on your shopping trip or anything, Mom, but don't we already have like twelve boxes of decorations in the attic?"

"No, quite unfortunately, rats."

"Rats, that ruins your chance to replace the stuff you've been hanging on to for forty years?"

"No, the rats in the attic got to three of the boxes. It was a sickening sight."

"I always told you that attic was dangerous. I swear I saw the ghost of Edmund Gwenn up there when I was looking for my Santa coffee tin you threw out."

"That leads me to my reason for calling. Since you always seemed quite fond of our decorations, I thought you might like to join me in shopping for the replacements."

"Okay. You mean as in right now?"

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Lorelai, is this sarcasm?"

"No, Mom, I'm agreeing to go shopping with you. The earth hasn't fallen in, there aren't any comets streaking through the sky. I can be unpredictable sometimes."

"Well, very good, then. I'll meet you at your house in half an hour."

* * *

Nearly three hours later, Lorelai was walking down her driveway, exhausted, yet proud of herself. She hadn't fought once with her mother. She hadn't even been rude or sarcastic…or hardly. Maybe she'd been too glad of the distraction. Her mother wasn't her favourite companion. But any company would have been better than sitting alone in her house all night. Sighing with a wry smile on her face, Lorelai climbed the steps, feeling the first icy drops of rain. Then she paused. Something was lying at her door underneath the overhang. She picked it up.

A bundle of yellow roses. Lorelai's heart almost stopped. She stared at it for a few seconds, and then, realizing how cold she was and how dark it was, fumbled with her keys until the door unlocked and she stepped into the house, flicking on the light switch as she did so.

Pulling off her gloves, her fingers trembling, she pulled the card from where it nestled inside the plastic wrapping.

There were only a few words on the card, but Lorelai recognized Christopher's handwriting.

"I know red roses are more traditional, but you told me once that you liked yellow flowers best. I never could remember anything for history tests, but there are some things I don't forget."

Lorelai sat there for a minute, tracing the card with her finger, then counting the roses. When she had finished, she counted again. Two dozen roses—one for every year since they'd first started dating at fifteen years old.

She started to cry. Not because she was sad, really, and not because she was overjoyed. Just because so many emotions about her marriage, feelings she'd thought never even existed, were suddenly bursting forth.

Last year seemed like so long ago. Why had she been so confused last year, so attached to Luke, that she couldn't even see the reality of what she'd had with Christopher? She knew it was futile to even ask. Last year, it had only been a few months since her dramatic break-up from Luke, a few months since she'd been engaged to another man and wasn't even dreaming of a future with Christopher. It had all happened so fast—dating Christopher, their marriage, Christopher and Gigi moving in. Lorelai hadn't moved on from Luke, hadn't even grieved that relationship. Everything had felt so wrong at the time, and she'd mistakenly thought this meant that marriage to Christopher was simply not right—and wouldn't ever be.

But time had put everything in clearer focus. Lorelai had tried to rekindle things with Luke, and she'd realized how dead their relationship really was. She'd let go of Luke completely and forever, and she'd had time to re-orient her thoughts. And she'd re-discovered Christopher, come to view him in a way she never had last year. Finally an adult, intelligent, responsible, sure of himself—but the same old Christopher she'd loved.

The Chris she'd always loved on some level, even going back to early childhood, when it was just friendship.

That was part of the reason she was crying. Today shouldn't have been like this. Christopher shouldn't just have dropped off flowers at her doorstep, or found someone to deliver them. He should have walked in the door with them, celebrated with her, spent the night with her, woken up beside her the next morning. All the reasons she'd used to have for rejecting Christopher had fled away. She didn't know when, she didn't have any idea how, but it was like waking up in the morning on a perfectly clear day after weeks of rain. Maybe the timing hadn't been right for her and Christopher when they were teenagers, or when Chris was in his twenties and trying to find himself, or when he felt it was his responsibility to stay with Sherry—or even last year, when she was still holding on to high ideals about Luke. But now…it was so obvious to Lorelai that she didn't belong anywhere except with Christopher. They never argued. They were always delighted to be together, never ran out of things to say to each other. They made a great team, were devoted parents to Gigi. They knew each other's best and worst sides, each other's whole life history—and they still loved each other. If they hadn't stopped by now, they never would.

It was fun to go out on "dates" with Chris, fun to chat with him on the phone, fun to flirt with him and exchange a kiss here and there. But they'd been there already. They'd played all the get-to-know-you again games before, had flirted with each other countless times. Lorelai didn't need to get to know Chris any better. She knew everything she needed to know about him. As impulsive, as weak-willed, and as self-centred as he could sometimes be, she had at least as many faults; and as frustrating as it sometimes was to compromise with anyone, she'd never be happier spending her life with anyone else.

Lorelai sniffed, smiling weakly at her own thoughts, and wiped away her tears. She missed Chris. She wished he were here right now, even though she'd only seen him two days ago. Their home should be together.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting there, letting the buried emotions and new realizations sink in, when the phone rang. Her immediate thought was, "Christopher!"

But it was an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this the home of the Lorelais Gilmore?"

"Rory!"

"Aw, my journalist voice didn't fool you?"

"Nah. It was a pretty good shot, but no. So where are you, what are you doing, did that guy red-ink your article again?"

"Whoa, I thought I was calling my mom, not Barbara Walters."

"Ugh. I can say my s's."

"So what's new with you?"

"Oh, not much. Paul Anka and I were just sitting around, asking ourselves whether we want Addison with Pete or that cute cop on Private Practice."

"Ah, the days of watching mindless TV."

"So, Miss Career Woman, are you going to find time to fit Thanksgiving in your schedule?"

"Yep. Wednesday morning I'll be cruising over the skies, watching all the people down below in disdain."

"Ha, I hope you still have time for your working-class mom."

"Ah, let me check my daybook. Yep, I've got her penciled in on Thursday the twenty-second. However, for a fee, I can add Wednesday night."

"Hey yeah, you'll be here on Wednesday too! Okay, I just had a flash of genius."

"Uh-oh."

"We'll have two Thanksgiving dinners this year. The usual painful one at your grandparents on Thursday, and a fun one on Wednesday night."

"I'd better pack some Pepto-Bismol then, considering you can't cook."

"That was a low blow. I can make a mean macaroni and cheese. And, Sookie lent me her pumpkin pie recipe."

"Which, obviously, you've tried out."

"I bought the pumpkin pie spice."

"I'll stop by the drugstore tomorrow."

"Hey, I have been in training. Last month I had a cough and Michel forced me to stay home from work for half a week so I wouldn't spread bird flu to the guests, and you have no idea how addicted I now am to Rachael Ray. I know the exact way to stir gravy so it is lump-free.

"You should show Mario Batali, I bet he'd be really impressed."

"We are going to have such a great Thanksgiving dinner ready for you, your days of Pop-tarts and French fries will be over for good."

"Wait a second, who's we?"

"Me…and your dad and Gigi."

"Oh."

"Yeah, you know, those other people who share your genes."

"Okay, great."

"If I heard Dan Rather saying great that way, I'd be running for the bomb shelter."

"No, it was a sincere great. It's just—last time I was here, you guys were separated."

"Um, yeah, I guess we were."

"So has that changed? I mean, am I going to come home and find Dad moving all his stuff in?"

"Well if it's a big inconvenience, you don't have to come home. I'm sure Barak Obama can call down a few loaves of bread from the sky to feed his adoring masses."

"No Mom, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it that way. I want to have dinner with my family. I love having dinner with my family. It's just I'm not sure what my family is. I mean, last year it was Dad, and then this summer it was Luke and April, and now it's Dad and Gigi again, which is fabulous. I just have a lot to keep track of out here on the campaign trail, so this stuff back home can get a little confusing."

"I know. But me and Dad and Gigi are always going to be your family. No matter what happens in the rest of the world, even if Love in the Time of Cholera sweeps the Oscars, the three of us are going to be here for you."

"And on that Academy Award-worthy note, there's a little flashing message in front of me that's telling me to add money."

"Aw, I'd lend you some, but it's a little tricky over the phone."

"Yeah. I'll call you before I leave on Wednesday and let you know for sure when I'm going to get here."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you too. Bye, Mom."


	16. Chapter 16

Rory leaned back in her seat in the airplane. She was trying to read _People_, a break from heavy news for once, but her mind wasn't on the people in the magazine. It was on the people back home.

Since when did going home become such a stressful experience? Things had been so simple when it had just been her and Mom, for the first sixteen or twenty years of her life—before Max, and Dad and the Sherry thing, and Luke, and Dad, and Luke…and now Dad again?

Rory closed her eyes, her thoughts racing. All through her childhood, she'd been so happy just being with Mom. She'd thought Mom was the smartest, wittiest, kindest, most amazing mother in the world. No mom could hold a candle to her. No daughter got to be best friends with their mother the way she was.

Of course, most other little girls had a dad or at least step-dad in their lives. Rory had a dad, too, but he wasn't around much. That was almost okay. Mom had pretty much convinced her it was okay. She did sometimes wish she had a dad who came home to her every day, who she could draw pictures for and who could teach her how to throw a ball. But she loved her dad, and she knew Dad loved her. When he did see her, he praised her, spoiled her, was her second-best friend after Mom. Dad was more fun than Mom, as fun as Mom was—and more dangerous. He'd take her on his motorcycle, would drive at speeds Mom would panic about.

Somehow, Rory had got the impression in her mind—she never really knew how; maybe Mom had put it there, or maybe it had been her own imagination—that someday, Dad would be a real dad and live with them. When he got things together, whatever that really meant.

When she was seventeen years old, it seemed like that was finally going to happen. Mom talked to her the night before. She and Dad had talked about the three of them finally becoming a real family. Rory was elated. Dad talked to her about it at Sookie's wedding the next day. She'd told him gravely that he better follow through: that she'd been waiting a long time for this. But she would have never said that, if she hadn't really trusted him.

And then came the devastating blow. Dad's ex-girlfriend was pregnant, and he was going to marry her and be a father to her child. He hadn't ever married Mom. He'd never lived with Rory and been a dad to her every day. But now, just like that, he was going to be a father to some little half-sibling who wasn't even born yet, instead of her, his oldest daughter, who he'd known for seventeen years.

Rory was heartbroken, angry, and disillusioned. All her innocence was shattered. She could never look at her father the same way again—or rather, overlook all his faults the way she had as a child and in her early teens. Her dad had never been a good dad. If he had been, he would have been there for Rory and her mom, not waited to be a full-time until Gigi came along.

The problem was, he was still her dad. She still loved him. And gradually, she began to see that he loved her, too. He wasn't always good at showing it. He'd let her down a lot over the years.

But in the last year or two, Rory had begun to realize that she'd let him down, too. She'd cut him out of her life when she hadn't felt like talking to him, when she'd been angry with him and had wanted to punish him. Yet, especially in the last couple of years, Dad had really been trying—calling, making dates to spend time with her. Gradually, Rory started developing a new relationship with her father. Not the kind of easy familiarity that came from seeing her father every day since she was born. She'd never know what that was like. But she and her father started to get to know each other on another level—not as playmates the way they'd been when she was a child, but as real, adult friends and companions. And for the first time, this past summer, she'd started to look up to her dad again.

Actually, maybe the respect had been growing for longer, even though she hadn't even realized it. Two years ago, she and her father had started to grow closer. He'd made a real effort; Rory had seen it, and appreciated it, and she started making more of an effort as well. And last year, Dad had seemed more mature and grounded than Mom.

Rory had been aghast when Mom had told her she'd slept with Dad. Sure, they were her parents, so it obviously wasn't the first time that had happened, much as Rory didn't like to think about it. Rory had always known her parents loved each other. Strange as it seemed, she'd never doubted it. They'd almost always seemed happy around each other when she'd seen them together, all through her childhood and teenager years—unless they were having a tiff, but they always patched those up. She could see that her father adored her mother. She knew Mom, as vague as she was about feelings, loved her father—she'd even said as much once. Maybe that was why Rory had always held out hope that they'd get together for good someday.

But hearing that Mom had slept with Dad, right after breaking up with Luke—that was something Rory never thought she'd hear. She was cringing and horrified, for many reasons. For one thing, as impulsive as she could be, Mom had never done something like that before—slept with another man hours after she'd broken up with a fiancé. It was shameful. Rory liked Luke. He'd been a fixture of her childhood.

Rory chuckled as she thought about it, listening to the droning of the plane. Fixture was probably the right word. He'd been a solid rock, a silent, immovable object. Luke had always just been _there_ in the diner whenever she'd come in with Mom. He'd definitely been solicitous about her health and welfare—and Mom's, of course. Luke was sweet and caring. Rory considered him an old friend. When Mom started dating Luke, Rory had been happy, even excited. Mom basically always picked great guys to date. Max had been a favourite teacher, and she saw Luke so much every day that having him around the house hardly felt new. When her mom and Luke had been engaged, Rory hadn't felt as though her father was being usurped: her father had never been living with them, or romantically attached to her mom, in the first place. But for the same reasons, Rory had never felt like Luke was anything close to a father. Her father had never been the man married to her mother or living in her house, so even though someone else was now those things, it didn't make Dad any less her father.

Plus, Luke wasn't exactly warm and cuddly. Rory cared about Luke and he cared about her--in an arm's-length kind of way. Even though she knew Luke would do practically anything for her, Rory also knew that the real relationship was the one between Luke and her mom. Luke was very kind and caring to Rory, but despite his gruffness, he was the same way towards almost everyone else in the town. Luke was a good man, but Rory had never yearned for him to be anything more than the old reliable friend he'd always been. Despite all his faults, she only had one father, a man she loved; and no one else could ever take his place.

No, it wasn't because she'd been devastated at losing Luke as a potential step-dad that Rory had been so upset at her father's answering machine message and her mom's confession. Rory had always hated it when there was drama going on between her parents. Even if they kept their problems completely separate from their relationship with her, she always felt the tension. All she'd ever really wanted was for her parents to get along, or at least not to allow whatever was going on between them to interfere with the time and attention they devoted to her. It was selfish, maybe; but children were selfish by nature. And even at twenty-one, she had still been the child of her parents. She figured that after what had happened between her mom and dad, things would be awkward between her parent. And that meant that she'd feel guilty about seeing Dad, and it meant that Dad just might not come around to see Rory as often.

Surprisingly enough, though, it hadn't worked out that way. Mom and Dad started dating, and things seemed to be going well. Whenever she talked to Mom, things seemed to be going well, even though the talk seemed to be sort of on a surface level—even for Mom, who usually left her comments sounding superficial and forced you to dig a little for the subtext. Whenever Rory talked to Dad, Dad was almost glowing.

Rory had her own life with Logan, school, and the paper. She'd been busy; she hadn't been home much. But it was kind of nice to know that her parents were together, that she could call one and know that she didn't have to call the other one, because they'd talk to each other. It was kind of nice to know that when she came home, she'd see both her parents. Actually, it was really nice. But she hadn't wanted to get her hopes up. Firstly, Dad didn't have such a great track record with commitment. But, for that matter, neither did Mom. Especially lately. And neither of them had a good track record at all when it came to each other. It seemed almost too good to believe that they'd finally get together, after all those years and missed opportunities.

Plus, occasionally…just occasionally…Mom seemed to have a funny expression on her face. A far-away look, like she wasn't quite living in the real world. It was hard to pinpoint, but Rory knew her mother better than anyone else in the world. And sometimes, somehow, Rory felt that something wasn't quite right with Mom. But whatever it was—probably lingering sadness over Luke—it would pass. Mom and Dad were taking things slow, like they should be.

Until they'd come back from Paris and announced they were married.

That had been a bombshell. Rory hadn't known what to think. She'd been upset, but not because they were married. She'd always wanted her parents to be married. When it came down to it, no matter how truly fine she'd been with just her mom, no matter how okay she'd been with her parents' respective boyfriends and girlfriends, she'd rather have seen her parents together—and with her—than with anyone else.

But this was not the way it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to be part of the equation, not an afterthought. Her parents were supposed to have a beautiful, traditional wedding—or not so-traditional; it was her parents, after all—but she was supposed to be in the wedding party, watching it all unfold. She'd been a part of their lives for twenty-one years. How could they do this without including her, let alone consulting her?

Rory told her mother the truth. She wasn't upset that her parents had married. She was upset that they'd gotten married without her. There was no point making a bigger fuss about it; it would seem like she wasn't happy with their marriage, which wasn't true. And yet, deep down, Rory was uneasy about the marriage. The lightning speed at which it had happened felt all wrong, made her feel like her parents' marriage was doomed.

The strain she'd seen between them at Christmastime only confirmed her thoughts. Her mom was hiding things from her father, and her father seemed painfully oblivious most of the time. But once she caught the expression on his face, and she knew he knew something was wrong, too.

Rory was more than happy to leave home again when Christmas vacation ended. She had no idea what was going on with her parents, especially Mom, who was acting completely unlike herself--enough to worry Rory. She figured it was only a matter of time before the storm broke.

She hadn't anticipated her grandfather's heart attack, however. That event--and the fact that she'd actually witnessed it--was tramautic enough in itself. So was the knowledge that her dad hadn't been home for a few days, that her parents barely spoke to each other at the hospital. By the time Mom told her she and Dad had split up, it seemed almost anticlimactic. Rory had no clue what had gone wrong between them--only that from the first moment she'd heard about their marriage, she'd had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

And as strange as it seemed, the problem seemed to lie more with Mom than with Dad. Mom had told Rory over and over again throughout her childhood that Dad was a great person, but irresponsible--not ready to handle family life. Rory had accepted that unquestioningly. There'd definitely been truth to the statement--at least, at one time. But Dad had been so committed to his marriage to her mother. It was impossible not to see that. And she was even more impressed by her father when, despite the separation, he didn't miss a beat in staying in contact with her. She had to give her dad major credit. And this past summer, when she'd stayed with him and Gigi, she'd found out she didn't just love her dad because he was her father. She loved him as a person. They were more alike than she'd realized. More amazing still, she respected him. She trusted him. She never thought she would say this, but she felt sure that her dad would be there for her whenever she needed him; that as long as she was with him, she would be safe. She felt more convinced of her father's stability than her mother's.

Rory was relieved when her mom reunited with Luke. She'd had more than a nagging suspicion that the loss of Luke was what had been bothering her mom all along. Mom obviously loved Dad, but her feelings for Luke seemed to go beyond that, given her apparent misery without him. Luke was grounded and level-headed and a well of compassion. He was probably exactly what Mom, who seemed increasingly helpless, needed. Rory felt responsible for her mother and worried about her when she was away. It was a relief to know that she could count on someone else to look after her.

And then, of all things, Rory had called home when her mom had returned from the boat trip, and had found out her mom wasn't with Luke anymore.

A few weeks later, she heard from Lane that Luke was leaving for New Mexico--for good. Her mom hadn't even told her.

Rory had no clue what to think anymore. After the way her parents' marriage had fallen apart so rapidly, she had had no choice but to believe that Luke was the love of her mom's life. Her mom had seemed so eager to get back together with Luke, despite trying to hide it. And then, in two months, that relationship had ended again.

They had always felt more like best friends and equals than mother and child; but lately, Rory was starting to feel as though she was the adult and her mom the child. And she hated the feeling, because she didn't feel like an adult herself. Actually, the crazier her mom's love life became, the more she doubted her own choices--especially romantic ones. Logan's proposal had shocked and even frightened her. Marriage held no guarantees. Actually, from what she'd seen in her mom's life, engagements and marriages signaled a relationship's doom. Rory was petrified. She loved Logan; but when he proposed, she suddenly felt stifled and in need of freedom. Suddenly a career seemed vastly more attractive than a relationship.

She'd tried not to think about Logan in the weeks and months since she'd rejected his proposal and broken off their relationship. It would hurt too much. It was easier to throw herself into learning a new job, into the hectic pace of travelling and reporting and meeting new people that left little time for reflection.

Rory gazed out the window of the airplane. The clouds below looked so soft, so comfortable. As a child, she'd wondered what it would be like to float on the clouds. Now she knew; and the white sea below seemed peaceful, reassuring. It was far calmer than the thoughts racing around in her mind.

She never thought she would be afraid to go home. Yet here she was, her heart pounding a little faster in anxiety every time she pictured her old home. She had no clue what to expect. She loved both her parents. All she'd ever really wanted was a stable relationship with both of them, whether they were together or apart. Even though she was twenty-two years old, she was honest enough to admit that she still needed a family to come back to--people who would always be there for her, whose concern for her would never diminish, even when everything else was new or changing.

That was why it frightened her that, after home being so safe and predictable all through her childhood, she had no clue what to expect when the plane touched down on the runway. Was it possible that her parents were really finally being honest with each other and in a truly loving and committed relationship? Or would their relationship be all be pretense, false smiles, and precariously close to collapse, the way it had been last Christmas?

Rory sighed and closed her eyes. Maybe sleep would come and take her mind off all her fears. For another hour, at least, she could pretend she was just a child again, lying in the grass and in her imagination drifting unafraid through the peaceful blue sky.


	17. Chapter 17

An hour later, Rory stood in the terminal of the airport, holding her luggage, squinting her eyes slightly as she scanned the building. Mom had said she'd be there to meet her, but Rory hadn't yet caught a glimpse of her. And everywhere she turned, Rory was nearly shoved or stepped on by another person. Human traffic at an airport the day before Thanksgiving was insane.

Rory finally sat down on a bench to avoid being crushed. She tried to turn her restless mind over to people-watching, but after a few minutes, her eyes glazed over. She had spent weeks keeping her eyes open for every possible story, every possible person to interview, anything that would catch the interest of an audience in their teens and twenties—the primary readership of the online magazine she was working for. By now, Rory was just tired of watching and studying the world around her. She'd give anything to be able to slip into a book and just escape for a while. This new job had taken more out of her than she'd expected. Being a fledgling reporter bore little similarity to her glamorous visions of being the new Christiane Amanpour.

The individual people began to blend together into a sea of dark coats and jackets, their separate voices mingling into a noise that sounded like the roar of the ocean. It was some time before the repetition of a certain sound amidst all the others caught Rory's attention. She glanced around. Someone was calling her name? To her left, someone's head stood slightly above the rest of the crowd; and a hand was waving.

"Rory!"

Rory jumped up. "Dad!"

She wove her way through the crowd as unobtrusively as she could, as did Chris, until they met. Rory dropped her bag and ran into her father's embrace. Chris looked down at her, grinning. "I was told to look for a girl who writes for Hugo Gray, brown hair, about 5'7", goes by the name of Christiane Amanpour. Ring any bells?"

"Sounds about right, minus the Christiane Amanpour part."

"Rory Gilmore was the other name I had, but I'm told that's only for friends and family."

"Ah, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, 'cause you look a lot like my Dad. Of course, you could be his stunt double."

Chris picked up Rory's suitcases, and she began to follow him. "The one that leaps into airports and abducts unsuspecting writers?"

"Yeah, that one. It's either that or getting trampled like a Hindu on a pilgrimage, so I'll take the risk."

"Good, because I don't know what your mom would do with me if I came back alone."

"Where is Mom?' asked Rory, as they reached Christopher's car. "I mean, I'm glad to see you, but I thought Mom said she'd be here."

"Last time I saw her, she was whipping up a Thanksgiving dinner."

"She's actually cooking?"

"She's got a lot of pots and pans and cookbooks lying out on the counter."

"Ah, that kind of cooking. You think we should delay the return home?"

"You up for some coffee?"

"Always. But especially after getting up at 5 am."

Christopher chuckled. "So how was the trip?"

* * *

Rory and Christopher were sitting in Weston's, taking the last bites of their doughnuts and sips of their coffee. Rory had given her father a rundown of all the highlights and low points of the campaign trail—at least, everything he hadn't already heard from phone calls and e-mails. He'd been an attentive and interested listener, but after an hour, Rory was talked out. She gazed out of the window at the bleak November landscape, and her dad followed suit.

"So I guess we'd better get back in case we need to call the fire department," Chris remarked.

"Or an electrician," Rory agreed. "You got some numbers in mind?"

"Hey, I'm pretty handy when it comes to plugs and wires."

"True, last year's Christmas display raised the wattage of the Stars Hollow sky at least two percent."

"But I've got a contact in case we're talking something bigger than a blown fuse."

"We have no mercy," Rory commented, pushing open the door of the coffee shop.

"You think we should cut your Mom a break?"

"She did say she'd been watching Rachael Ray."

"Maybe I shouldn't have fed you that doughnut."

"Nah, you didn't spoil my supper. I haven't eaten since breakfast. Plus, after the tenth political dinner I got pretty good at the fake hungry face."

Rory buckled herself back into her seat as her father backed out of the parking lot. She leaned over to play with the radio.

"Talk radio, rock, or something in between?"

Chris smiled slightly.

"No response. Okay, something in between."

"Or how about no radio?"

"That wasn't one of the options."

"Rory, I want to talk to you."

Rory stiffened. "About you and Mom?"

Christopher glanced at her. "What did Mom tell you?"

"Let's see. On Monday night Mom said, 'We'll have dinner ready for you.' I said, 'Who's we?' Mom said, 'Dad and Gigi.' I said, 'oh.' I tried to dig for more, but I think I hit bedrock. Plus, my pay phone ran out."

"I should have talked to you."

"Look, Dad, you can do whatever you want. It's your life. It's just that last summer, you said you and Mom didn't work out and you wanted to move on."

Christopher fiddled with his collar. "Yeah. But it's kind of hard to move on when someone starts hinting they want you to move back."

"Mom changed her mind again, huh?"

"I've been getting vague signals pointing in that direction."

Christopher glanced at Rory, who exhaled slowly.

"Okay. See, I've witnessed firsthand Mom's trouble deciding what to wear in the morning. But the thing is, changing relationships is not like changing a shirt."

"Yeah. I actually owe her a couple of shirts."

"Dad, you can't go back to Mom just because you feel you're obligated."

"There's a little more going on here than a couple of T-shirts."

"You guys were married. I know. But how well did that turn out?"

Christopher's face clouded. "You don't want me back with Mom."

"No, no, I didn't say that."

Christopher kept his eyes on the road, but his shoulders sagged. "I get it."

"No, Dad, I do want you with Mom, I guess. It's just…I don't want you to get hurt."

"Not you or Mom either, huh?"

"Well, no, pain is not my favourite experience, but honestly, Dad, as much as I admire principle, sometimes it can be damaging. George Bush has hung on to his commitments in the face of all odds and he's lost all his friends except Canada."

Rory paused, turning to stare out of the window as her father pulled into a small parking lot at the side of the road, above a ravine. It appeared to be a look-out point, except there was very little to look at among the bare trees and barren earth that ran down to the valley below.

"Why are we stopping?"

Chris parked and pulled the key out of the ignition. He opened his door. "Come on."

"This is not exactly your typical rest stop," Rory remarked, as she climbed out.

"Check out the view," her dad answered, as they walked slowly to the railing that divided them from the steep, rough slope. Before them lay endless trees, naked and dark in the mid-afternoon dimness. The wind howled through the forest, but otherwise, even the road was silent.

"Dad, I hate to say it, but this looks like a nature documentary pre - Technicolor."

"Imagine it a month ago when the leaves were still on the trees."

"I'm envisioning a life size Tom Thomson painting."

"This is where I came after I saw you in the hospital for the first time."

"Let me guess, you needed some fresh air?"

"It was either coming here or choking down two of your grandfather's cigars."

"Yeah, I would have gone with the first option too."

"When I saw you, the first thing I thought was, 'How did your mom and I make something that amazing?' My second thought was, 'How did we make something that looks like a glazed prune?' But my first thought was amazing."

"Well, you were able to see something that looked like a glazed prune as amazing. That's pretty amazing in itself."

"Rory. I wouldn't have gone to be with Gigi if I hadn't thought I missed out on something important with you."

"I know that, Dad."

"No, I know what you were thinking. I kept the wrong promises with the wrong people and the right people got short-changed."

"You should have been there for Gigi. I didn't get it then but I get it now. I wasn't going to be a baby again, she was. Of course you went to be with her."

"And I'm glad I did. But you and your mom were there first, and I failed you both a lot."

"Not a lot. I was in a math class at Chilton where the failure count was way worse."

"The count would make the Rain Man weep."

"You underestimate the Rain Man."

"I know it was bad, but I'm here now, Rory."

"Dad, seriously. I know. I'm glad you're here."

"Would it be so bad if I was here in Stars Hollow with your Mom?"

"No, it wouldn't be bad. That's why I'm not sure I want it to happen. If I thought it would be bad, I wouldn't be so scared you guys aren't going to make it again."

"I can't guarantee what's going to happen with your mom and me. But as for you and me, I am going to be here as long as you need me."

"Okay."

"And you might not like to hear this, but even when you don't."

"Okay."

"Okay I don't agree with everything you just said, but I want to keep the peace?"

"No, okay as in believe it or not, I believe you."

"Even though I wasn't here to read you bedtime stories?"

"I skipped from _Goodnight Moon_ to _Ben Hur_, so you didn't miss much there."

"I wasn't there for your birthday parties."

"Yeah, but the Snow White theme when I was five might have driven you away for good anyway."

"I wasn't there to tie your bib or feed you."

Rory looked up at him with a cheeky smile. "Good, then I can do that stuff for you when you're old."

Chris wrinkled his forehead in mock distress. "Okay, this conversation is becoming depressing."

"So, we should really get back now."

"I'm surprised your Mom hasn't called."

"She's probably too busy straining the gravy."

As they walked back to the car, Rory rested her head her dad's shoulder for a second. Chris' face twitched only slightly, but his eyes were sparkling.


	18. Chapter 18

Despite Christopher and Rory's fears, Thanksgiving dinner at the Crap Shack was quite edible. Actually, it tasted good, even if there was beef instead of turkey and the gravy tasted exactly like Sookie's specialty at the Dragonfly. Lorelai protested very convincingly that Sookie had gone on maternity leave and her baby was expected any day, even pulling out a kitchen schedule to prove it. Privately, both Christopher and Rory still had their suspicions; but neither of them were complaining about a very satisfactory meal.

The next day, after a much heavier, much more traditional meal at Richard and Emily's, Christopher, Lorelai, Rory and Gigi were leaning back in their chairs.

"Excellent dinner, as always, Emily, " said Richard.

"I'll second that," Christopher replied.

"Are you sure? I thought the pie was a bit cloying, myself. Of course, raisin pie isn't really to my taste."

"That pie was the next thing to New York cheesecake," Christopher answered.

"Better," Richard added. "You surpassed yourself as usual, dear."

"Well if you must thank me, thank me for finally finding a proper cook. Lorelai can tell you how I nearly gave up after the eleventh interview."

"I can?"

"Yes, I told you about it all Monday night during our shopping trip. You were the one who told me to interview Clara."

"Are you sure that wasn't Edgar Bergen talking?"

Chris glanced at Lorelai, trying not to smile.

"No, I described her to you, and you said, "Aha."

Lorelai looked at her plate. "Oh, yes, it's coming back to me now, except I thought that was a yawn."

Richard suddenly wiped his mouth vigorously, and Christopher coughed. Emily was far from amused. "I'm well aware that I'm not a dazzling conversationalist, Lorelai, but if you were so bored, the least you could have done is change the subject."

"I'm sure Lorelai was just being polite," Richard intervened.

"There are better ways of being polite than gaping in someone's mouth."

"It wasn't a gape, Mom, you said yourself it was an aha. Case closed."

Richard rose. "Let's go into the study, Christopher, and have a cigar, while these women fight amongst themselves."

Rory winked at her dad. "Twenty-two years catch up eventually."

* * *

In Richard's study, Richard settled comfortably in an easy chair, while Christopher, slightly less comfortably, took a chair opposite from him and glanced over the bookshelves. Richard proferred a cigar, which Christopher took with a polite smile. Richard, also smiling, took a puff and leaned back.

"I'm glad to see you and Lorelai back together."

"Yeah, well, we haven't really talked about it yet."

"Well, when two people know they want to be together, not much needs to be said."

"So how did you know you and Emily were back together a couple years ago?"

"Oh, one day, I was going to leave, and Emily said, "Come home."

"I see."

"Now with Lorelai you might not even get that. It might be between the lines. But it will be there."

"I hope you're right."

"Oh, I'm sure I'm right," said Richard contentedly. "But for my sake, I hope it won't take too long. Your father, no matter his faults, deserved to have a son to carry on his name. And I'm not getting any younger. So how's business?"

* * *

Rory was colouring with Gigi at a small table set up in the corner of the living room for that purpose when Emily entered, with Lorelai following rather reluctantly behind. Emily gestured towards several boxes on the floor.

"Lorelai, I'd like you to look through the things I managed to salvage from the attic."

"Did you conquer the rat population up there?"

"No, I ran away as fast as I could and called an exterminator."

"That's the way to show 'em."

"I found some old things of yours. I thought you might want them."

"A miniature rocking horse? I don't know if you noticed, but Rory passed the CPSC's recommended weight a few years back. Hey honey, when was the last time you were 60 pounds?"

"Probably the time I was anorexic at Yale."

"Oh yeah. We never told Mom that. Wait a second, you never told me that."

"Huh. I thought I slipped it in between the references to ecstasy and the time I danced naked at that rave."

"Rory, I hope this is just an inherited form of your mother's sarcasm."

Lorelai held up a faded blue rattle with a slightly bewildered smile. "Seriously, Mom, why do I need an antique rattle?"

"I wasn't thinking of you, precisely, Lorelai."

Without looking up from the colouring book, Rory called, "Oh, Grandma, I've sworn off marriage for at least the next ten years. And, um, just so you know, that definitely means babies as well."

"I wasn't referring to you either, Rory. I don't think I'm quite old enough to be a great-grandmother yet. Although Amy Ellens, who is only three years older than me, is a great-grandmother twice over. Of course, her granddaughter married a circus acrobat. I pity those poor children more than anything."

Lorelai, suddenly deeply distracted, had averted her eyes. "Mom, tell me these knitting needles in with my baby things weren't put to double use as weapons?"

"Oh, those needles are from when I took up knitting to pass the time while your father put you to bed."

"You sure you're talking Dad here and not Mike Brady? 'Cause sweet as it sounds, this bedtime ritual has escaped my memory."

"Well, you were very young. By the time you were five you'd thrown out most of your books and announced you were only going to listen to Bob Dylan at night."

"They would have loved you at Berkeley, Mom," Rory remarked.

"They would have. They would also have had to push me in the stroller. So Mom, can you still speak knitting? Knit, cast, purl, ouch my knitting needle stabbed me?"

"No, I haven't knitted a thing in over thirty years. I only took it up when your father insisted I should relax while he took over the bedtime duty once in a while."

"Wow, I never knew I had so much to thank Dad for."

"I can't say I was too pleased. But I thought it was the least I could do after your father and I fought over who would spend time with you at night."

"You and Dad had a fight, as in more than a heated exchange of words? Over me? Oh boy, I'm glad I decided to show up tonight."

"Well, it was a civil fight, but I was upset. Richard said I spent too much time with you and I wasn't giving him a chance."

"And it's a good thing Dad said something, or he wouldn't have known what I looked like underneath all the tulle and lace and debutante gear."

"I was only trying to make sure you were properly cared for."

"Ah, yes, the reason you made me walk around with a book on my head for two hours a day until the chiropractor told you my back was locked up. And we haven't yet found the key."

"I had the best intentions for you."

"Still, you can't blame a man for wanting to share his child."

"Yup, just like you shared me all the time when I was a baby, Mom," Rory commented, walking past the boxes to check out their contents while Gigi hummed in the background.

"Share? I shared you with the whole town, babe. You had about nine thousand, nine hundred and seventy-three parents by the time you were two."

"Yeah, but after you took me on the public walkabout you brought me inside and told me that the world was like _Family Affair._ There were a lot of nice people out there, but at the end of the day there were only a few you could count on."

"Well, that was just my version of the 'don't take candy from strangers' lecture. And a lot less over-used, too."

"Lorelai, much as I doubt the mental faculties of those townspeople at times, I hardly think it was necessary to tell your daughter that she couldn't trust anyone except you."

"This is coming from the woman who told her daughter everyone outside the D.A.R. were scary hobos who chain-smoked and attacked little girls."

"At least I allowed your father access to you."

"Christopher was a part of Rory's life."

"Holidays and vacations don't count. You never let that man in any more than you let us in to Rory's life, and he's struggling to make up for it now."

"Christopher could come see Rory any time he wanted. He just happened to be in California."

"He wouldn't have been in California if you'd married him in the first place."

"Christopher wasn't ready for marriage. He was immature. He was weak."

"Well. You never let any of those things get in the way of marrying him last year."

"You never let any of those things get in the way of telling me to marry Christopher at 16, when he was clearly a lot more ready for marriage than he was last year."

"You were also 16. You needed someone to provide for you."

"Oh come on, Mom. You didn't want me to marry Christopher because you thought he was a good provider. You wanted me and Christopher together because he was rich, you knew his parents, you weren't going to find any diner owners in his background."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Of course your father and I approved of Christopher's family, but work ethic is of far greater importance than money. Did I ever tell you about Mercy's youngest son? He went to California and gambled his whole inheritance away. Thank goodness Christopher never did that."

"Don't try to change the topic, Mom. So you didn't want me with Christopher because of his social standing? Someone please call the _Times_, because I've been in the dark about this for twenty years."

"I've never made any secret out of the fact that I enjoy Christopher's company."

"No, you haven't."

"Christopher and his family visited us quite often. I became used to seeing you with him. I thought, God forbid, that you enjoyed being with him. Is any of this a problem?"

"No, it's not a problem. So the fact that Luke owned a diner and lived in a crappy apartment had nothing to do with your attitude towards him."

"Well, I admit, running a small-town eatery is not a profession I would have chosen for your husband. But no, for the most part, that wasn't it."

Lorelai scoffed. "Come on, Mom, you did not like Luke. You tried to break us up. There must have been some motive behind that."

"Does it really matter why I had my opinion of Luke? Since when did my opinion affect your actions?"

"I just want to know what you think, and you're not being very forthcoming with your thoughts."

"All right. I thought you had great potential, and I thought Luke would keep you back."

"There it is Mom, straight out of your mouth. You just wanted me to marry someone with a fat bank account and an Ivy League education, and you couldn't stand it that I happened to love someone who had none of those things."

"Lorelai, where exactly is Luke at the moment?"

"Luke's in New Mexico."

"Why on earth are you no longer with someone you claim to love?"

"Luke and I didn't have a lot in common. Which is entirely different from the very vague reasons you've given for not wanting me with Luke."

"I thought I was fairly clear. You and Luke were from different worlds."

"Well, you and I are from totally different planets, Mom."

"And I always thought you and Christopher had more in common."

"Come on, Mom, you only wanted me with Christopher so you wouldn't have to tell your friends your daughter was pregnant and not married. Christopher was going to look after your poor helpless daughter who needed a man, and the two of us were going to be a perfect little family with Rory."

"The three of you looked very familial at dinner today."

"Darn it, that's how we're all connected! I was hoping it was because we were all in the running to be the next Susanna Hoffs."

"Lorelai, why is Christopher here?"

"He looks good sitting at a Thanksgiving table, don't you think?"

"If I didn't know you better, Lorelai, I'd say you didn't disagree with me about Christopher."

"Ha, well, it's a good thing you know me really well, Mom."

"You and Christopher make such an attractive couple. Don't they, Rory?"

"I'm gonna go with either yes or no on that," said Rory, who was rummaging through the garbage can to halt a temper tantrum on Gigi's part and actually hadn't heard at all.

"Too bad Chris and I would be a disgrace to all Hartford if we ever appeared out together."

"What?"

"What was that conversation we were having in the gazebo a few months ago?"

"I thought we resolved that."

"We did."

"Good," said Emily, turning aside, seeming vaguely unsatisfied with the outcome of the conversation.

"Well, I'm glad to see you agree with me," said Lorelai, sounding very faintly irritated.

"I can be agreeable from time to time," her mother responded, a vague note of frustration also detectable in her voice.

"Yeah, but this is like one of those Christmastime treaties."

"I wasn't aware there was a war."

"There isn't in the military sense, but you know, back in World War I, on Christmas Day, they stopped fighting. And this is Thanksgiving. So clearly, this a Thanksgiving treaty between you and me."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lorelai, but I certainly wouldn't presume to think you agree with me. Or that I agree with you."

"Oh, good, because I don't know if I could handle that level of weirdness. Especially after that raisin pie."

"I thought you enjoyed the meal. I'm the only one in this family who doesn't like raisin pies."

"Did you hear me say anything after dinner? Or were you having one of your Charlie McCarthy moments?"

Having pacified Gigi, Rory wandered up. "It's such a pleasure to see you two getting along." She picked up a couple of pictures.

"Oh, look at this cute picture of Rory when she was little," Lorelai squealed.

"Here's one of Christopher," Emily remarked, looking at a school photograph.

"Mom, why did they torture males with pink shirts back in those days."

"Christopher looks very good."

"I notice you can't say the same for your daughter," Lorelai remarked, staring at the next photo.

"You would have looked charming if you'd smiled."

"Well, I was never happy, because my head was yanked out of my neck for an hour beforehand."

"Oh, look at Dad in this one," laughed Rory. "I never knew Dad was that chubby."

"You should have seen yourself at six, Twiggy."

"But the smile is still very Christopher," said Emily approvingly.

"He smiled like that at me when I was seven and before I knew it he had my Raffi collection."

Footsteps were heard in the hall, and Richard and Christopher, looking relaxed, entered.

"What's this? I walk away for a second and the whole world is analyzing my first grade pictures," Chris remarked, staring down at the table.

"You were awfully cute," said Lorelai, smiling up at him.

"So were you, in those striped tights," Chris responded, checking out the next picture in amusement.

"Don't remind me of those striped tights," said Lorelai indignantly, rising from the floor to settle close beside him on the couch. "They were not my decision."

"Oh that's right, the first day you wore them you said as soon as you had some money you were going to send your Mom to Timbuktu."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing I didn't have enough postage."

Richard and Emily had seated themselves on the opposite couch. Richard looked deeply content, beaming benevolently at the family. Emily was stacking up several photo albums, but obviously listening with one ear.

"Oh, Richard, remember when Christopher offered to send us all expenses paid to Bermuda? You could hardly have been ten years old at the time."

"I was just buttering you up for my big request. I believe I wanted to borrow your Mississippi Rifle replica, Richard."

"And you got it, didn't you?" Richard agreed, chuckling.

"Okay, hang on a second, how come when I said stuff like this I should have been spanked, but when Christopher says it, it should have gone on Kids Say the Darndest Things?"

"Lorelai, we were joking."

"Really, Dad, if you ever feel like having a second child, I read that adoption is legal right up until death."

"That's hardly necessary. Christopher is already part of the family."

"Your mom and I had some good times here as kids, Rory."

"Tell me what drug you've been taking so I can get some of these memories."

"Remember that time you two put on a play for us in which you played Bonnie and Clyde?" chuckled Richard.

"The parallels with our relationship were just to good to pass by," Christopher nodded.

"Then there was that reanactment of the final scene of _The Philadelphia Story_, done with that moon-faced Pritchard boy Christopher sometimes hung around with," Emily said.

"Your mother and I spent half that night talking about how you two should try out for the local play," said Richard, turning to Lorelai.

"Why didn't I hear about this?" demanded Lorelai.

"You already had ambitions of becoming the new Katharine Hepburn," Emily responded.

"We didn't want to tempt you too far," Richard agreed.

"Well, when I heard Katharine Hepburn held the record for most best actress wins at the Oscars, obviously I couldn't take any other role model," Lorelai replied.

"You were a great Tracy Lord," said Christopher. "Obnoxious and self-centred, and therefore great."

Lorelai gave him a look.

"Do you remember what else they told us the night of that play, Richard?"

"Please don't tell me you had this entire conversation taped and written down for a future court date," groaned Lorelai.

"If I recall, you two told us that once you were grown up and married, you were going to send us on a Scandinavian cruise," Richard said.

"We're still waiting for the cruise," said Emily.

"I also said I hoped there would be an iceberg there," whispered Chris to Rory. Lorelai unceremoniously cuffed him.

"You're corrupting innocent minds here, Dad," said Rory.

"Is there a problem?" asked Emily.

"No, no," answered Lorelai. "Chris just suggested that you go to Antarctica, and I said you probably wouldn't care for that."

"I think that's a little out of my league," said Richard.

"Well, we'll work on something, won't we, honey?" said Lorelai to Chris.

"Absolutely. Emily, one of my friends is a travel agent. I'll get her in touch with you, and you and Richard can figure out where you want to go."

Lorelai glanced over at Gigi, who had wandered over to the couch some time ago and now had her eyes shut as she leaned against Lorelai. "While the wheels start turning in your brain, someone needs to sleep."

Christopher and Rory began to rise, followed by Lorelai with Gigi in her arms.

"She looks just like you used to look when you fell asleep after Thanksgiving dinner, Rory," said Richard.

"You think I look like Gigi?"

"She looks like you," Emily responded.

"She's got your brains, too," agreed Richard approvingly. "I asked her where France was and she walked straight to my world map and told me it was the green blob beside the purple one on the map. Then she told me I obviously couldn't read or I would have known that."

"Well, now we know Rory's brains don't come from me," Lorelai commented, lowering a half-awake Gigi until she was standing dazedly on the floor.

"Nonsense," said Richard firmly. "Who has given both these girls her maternal time and instruction?"

"Christopher, I'll be waiting for the call from your travel agent," Emily said.

"I'll get in touch with you on Monday."

They said their goodbyes. As the door shut behind them and Rory walked on ahead, Lorelai said to Chris, "You're serious about this trip thing."

He grinned, adjusting the shoulders of her coat. "You haven't changed that much since you were ten. How nice would it be to have no Friday night dinners for a month?"

"I'm getting to kind of like them."

"I've noticed."

"Okay, but I get to pick the location."

"Just as long as you know the Bermuda Triangle is out."

"Don't put thoughts in my head."

"Only ones that aren't already there. Nix on the Sargasso Sea, too."

"Hey, do you think they'd like to get in touch with Richard Branson?"

"When you think vacation, you think big, don't you?"

"The sky's the limit," nodded Lorelai cheerfully.

"Come on, parents," said Rory. "I know you're having a world-altering conversation about how to dispose of Grandma and Grandpa, but I promised Lane I'd still visit her tonight."


	19. Chapter 19

Four weeks later, Lorelai was sitting at work, gazing absent-mindedly at the Christmas decorations around her, when the phone rang...again. She knew before she picked it up that it was Sookie. Sookie's baby daughter had been born three weeks ago, yet Sookie had barely missed a day of panicked calls to the Inn.

"Lorelai! Daisy's asleep!"

"That's great! Now you can take a nap."

"But I'm so worried, I can't sleep! Tell me Michel used Jackson's artichokes in the soup and not those sorry excuses of vegetables from California."

"I have artichoke soup sitting in front of me, and these babies are about as fresh as artichokes can get at Christmas time."

"That's wonderful! I still can't sleep."

"You're a new mom. Think lullabies. Think Rock-A-Bye Baby."

"Rock-a-Bye baby is not a happy song! The baby falls out of the tree!"

"Okay, then make up a lullaby. Something like, "I am calm, the inn is fine, I'm going to relax and be a mom."

"But if I try to make lyrics, all I can think of is food!"

"Sookie, what can I say to calm you down?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I think it's the pregnancy hormones. Could it be the hormones?"

"It could be the hormones. Except, you're always this obsessive about your cooking."

"It's just that I'm afraid I'm going to get back to work and there won't be any dinner guests left, and I'll have to rebuild my clientele from scratch."

"No, while you're gone, um, people are going to read the review of Sookie St. James' cooking in _The Hartford Courant_ and flock to the Dragonfly."

"Oh my God, _The Hartford Courant_ is going to review me? But I'm not there!"

"No, uh, I think they did the evaluation last month. It was kind of an undercover thing."

"What day was it? Don't tell me it was the day my tossed salad didn't toss and some people only got spinach."

"I don't know what day it was. But Sookie, your food? Excellent every day. In fact, that should be your motto."

"Oh, I hope it was the day I made that double chocolate fudge cake. Didn't you think that cake was good?

"It was heavenly."

"Oh my goodness, I'm going to have to tell Jackson about this. Don't let Michel put curry in the potato salad. Okay. Bye."

Lorelai tapped her fingers nervously on her desk. A discreet distance away, Michel was dusting, trying to appear unobtrusive and completely incapable of eavesdropping.

"Michel!" Lorelai called.

Michel sidled over. "Yes?"

"Can you call _The Hartford Courant_ and beg them in your best French concierge voice to do a review for us?"

"I thought lying was against our code of conduct."

"Yes, but these are desperate times. The polar bears are going extinct, China has missiles, and we have a crazy new mother on our hands."

"Despite these uplifting pieces of information, I have my principles."

"Michel, do you actually want Sookie here inspecting your cooking all Christmas?"

Michel frowned. "Twisted logic you use, but persuasive. Okay, I will carry out your odious plan. But if something goes wrong, I am not the one you look at to blame."

Michel, with a slightly sour expression on his face, strode off. Lorelai remained sitting there, twisting a lock of hair in her hands, when the phone rang again.

"Hi, Mom," came Rory's still child-like voice.

"Hi" said Lorelai, her face instantly brightening. "Tell me you're at the airport and you want me to come pick you up."

"Nope, I'm in Iowa."

"Darn! I didn't want you to tell me that. You shouldn't have told me that."

"Sorry. Next time I'll lie to you and tell you I'm in the cab on the way to the airport."

"There, that's the way I raised you."

"So, I've only got a few minutes before I have to squish in with a hundred other people and listen to Hillary Clinton's next stump speech."

"What, you crossed over to the Dark Side? I mean, not that I have any political interests to speak of, but was it you who was covering Barack Obama's campaign?"

"Yes, but Hugo Gray's theory is, you've got to know all the candidates before you endorse one of them."

"That Hugo Gray is underrated, you know? That's exactly what I do when I shop."

"That's such an astute comparison, Mom."

"I know. I bowl myself over every day. So, what's new?"

"Um, not much. Oh, Logan is coming home for Christmas and I'm going to a Christmas party with him."

"Logan? Would this be the Logan who was asked me permission to propose a few months ago?"

"Yeah. That Logan."

"You're telling me this now with sixty seconds left in our conversation?"

"I was going to give you the whole dramatic story tomorrow night, but I thought I'd better tell you now in case you heard it from someone else before me."

"But I'm at the top of your people-to-call list. I'm on your emergency contact list. I spent many hours giving birth to you when I would have rather been having a root canal. Therefore, there couldn't possibly be anyone who would hear about this before me."

"Obviously."

"Oh, good. I was getting worried there."

"I mean, Grandma and Grandpa might hear about this party from the Huntzburgers."

"People who, despite all their excellent qualities, are not on your emergency contact list."

"Or, Dad might have mentioned it to you."

"Dad knows about you and Logan and the Christmas party?"

"He happened to call, and it happened to spill out."

"Really? These things do happen with my mugs of coffee. But not with things that I plan to tell my only daughter and best friend."

"Mom. I'm sorry if you're disappointed, but seriously, I was going to tell you."

"No, not disappointed. I'm just...surprised."

"Uh, Logan and I were Facebook friends, so we kind of stayed in contact."

"Oh yeah, you and Logan...that surprises me. When you get home we are sitting down and having an all-night interrogation session, okay?"

"Will do."

"So when did you and your dad start having these regular phone conversations? These great, long-overdue phone conversations?"

"Dad keeps in touch. He's good."

"Do I keep in touch? Do you want me to post messages on your Facebook? They could be really witty and inside-joke-ish, because no one has known you longer than I have."

"No, I don't want either you or Dad joining Facebook. You could check out my online articles, though."

"Does Dad do this?"

"Dad's in computer software. Yes, Dad reads the articles."

"Well, kudos to your dad. Some of us just happen to like using books to look up things."

"Or, in your case, asking random people on the street Paul Anka's address."

"I just wanted to tell him he had a namesake."

"Okay, you have a Christmas project. Learn to use the Internet. Got to go."

"Okay. See you in five days, when you will spill all these Logan details."

"Four and a half. Bye."

Without skipping a beat, Lorelai began dialing Christopher's number. Christopher, trying to string lights around his Christmas tree while holding the phone, had his hands full. Lorelai was completely unaware of this. She didn't even acknowledge his hello.

"You didn't tell me Rory was going to a Christmas party with, scratch that, possibly dating Logan again."

"Was I supposed to tell you? Rory said she was going to talk to you."

"She did talk to me, five seconds ago."

"So how about that, huh? It looked like they were over for good for a while there."

"You're gloating. You always liked Logan."

"Well I gotta say, the guy does have a pretty impressive prep school record."

"Oh, now I get it! I was the mean mom when they first got together and she didn't want to hear what I'd have to say about them getting back together. Therefore she told you first."

"I think Rory talked to me first because I happened to call her."

"I call her too, you know."

"I know you do. You're the gold medal mom."

"I think someone's in competition for the medals now."

"No, I'm just making up for lost time. I couldn't make it without you. Which is why, by the way, I have a request. I need your help Christmas shopping."

"Oh, okay. Just give me a second and I'll get my CD wish list from my purse. I remember I wrote down _Return to Bangleonia_, and there was a U2 one I needed to replace because my old one was skipping..."

"Lor."

"Yeah, I know, most of the stuff on the Bangleonia DVD I have on CD, but it's worth getting just to see those girls sing, even if that new girl is nowhere near the calibre of Michael Steele."

"I'm Christmas shopping for Rory. Our daughter, you know, twenty-two years old and not actually all that into the Bangles?"

"Oh. You and Rory are best buds now, so you know what to get her."

"What size shoes does she wear?"

"You don't know that?"

"Lorelai."

"Men, always helpless. Okay, I will come shopping with you."

"Thank you."

"And after my tenth non-Rory gift request, don't say I didn't warn you."

* * *

At the end of the shopping trip three days later, Chris was exhausted. But it was true—he couldn't say Lorelai hadn't warned him. He laid his bags down wearily in Lorelai's front entryway. Lorelai was rummaging through the bags, listing things.

"A pair of Uggs, headphones, two sweaters..."

"Are you sure those aren't too big for her?"

"No, they're the perfect size. Slightly too big for her and slightly too small for me."

"Rory's sweater size has nothing to do with you, by the way."

"It's the perfect size to share!"

"Which was not the intention of those sweaters."

"Hang on a second, what is this?" Lorelai picked up a box and rattled it, a slightly mocking gleam in her eyes. Christopher took it, unamused.

"I know the pieces on the front are very unfamiliar to you, but the big letters on the front of the box are pretty clear," he said, putting it back into the bag.

"Since when did you decide to take on Bobby Fischer?"

"Bobby Fischer, I'm not a match for. My daughter, I may be. Once I practice on the computer a little more."

"You think Rory's going to play chess with you this Christmas?"

"She better. We had a tournament going on this summer."

"You two had quite the relationship going on this summer."

"Yes, we did. And speaking of daughters, I've got to get back to pick my other one up from school."

"Okay." Lorelai's tone suddenly became subdued, submissive. She turned from the bags, and Chris wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. Somehow, though, his embrace was limp.

* * *

On the way to Gigi's school, Christopher was wrestling with a few unpleasant thoughts. He'd been pleased to be back together, more or less, with Lorelai; but already the joy of the reunion was ebbing. Shopping with Lorelai this afternoon had been aggravating. For some reason, Lorelai had spent most of the time at the mall pointing out a thousand things that she herself wanted, when they were supposed to be shopping for their daughter. Maybe she really thought she was being cute. Had Luke encouraged this kind of behaviour in her? She hadn't always been like this. Or maybe Lorelai had, but it the last time they'd spent an extensive amount of time together--besides last year--had been in high school. Lorelai might have been attention-seeking and demanding back then, but Chris had been so young, he'd probably been awed by it. But he wasn't impressed by the same behaviour now. And even if it had been cute or funny when Lorelai was fifteen, it wasn't remotely cute now. For the first time in a long time, Chris was happy to be going home, away from Lorelai.

Suddenly he realized his thoughts, and was appalled. Didn't he love Lorelai? He'd wanted to reunite with her. And now, a month later, he was almost wishing he were back with Melanie. How could he be so inconsistent? Chris was ashamed of himself. As he made a right turn at a stop sign, Chris took a deep breath. He did love Lorelai. Intellectually, he knew that he still did. When he'd married Lorelai, he hadn't promised to stay with her only when she was easy to live with.

Still, the misgivings gnawing at Chris went deeper. The truth was, Lorelai's behaviour was starting to seem like an echo of last year. Then, she'd seemed so petulant and self-centred that Chris had finally reached the painful conclusion that she was unhappy in their marriage. But this year--he really didn't think that was the problem. Lorelai always seemed eager to see him.

The problem right now wasn't him. It was his closer relationship with Rory. Lorelai resented that. Chris knew Lorelai well enough that he had realized it almost immediately. Lorelai had always said she wanted Christopher and Rory to have a better relationship, and even now, Chris believed she had always meant it. But Lorelai had also never wanted Chris to rival her role as the all-encompassing figure in Rory's life. Rory was supposed to go to Lorelai first, and Chris second. Lorelai hadn't said it out loud, but this past week, Chris had gotten the message clearly enough.

Chris believed that Lorelai loved him. He'd always known, even when she'd been with Luke, that on some level, her heart belonged to him. But Chris didn't want to spend his life with someone who could only give him the kind of love Lorelai had been giving him all her life--momentary surrender, followed by a quick retreat back within the walls. In unguarded moments, Lorelai would let him in completely. But she had her boundaries, her territory, and it seemed that in general, Chris was only allowed in so far.

And Chris was frustrated. Not because he'd found that the woman he'd committed to wasn't so lovable. That would have been a problem easy enough to wriggle out of. Instead, Chris found himself in a much deeper hole. The woman he loved--and would always love--was sometimes almost impossible to live with. He would always love Lorelai. But he didn't just want to love her, didn't just want to come back to her for brief reunions followed by tearful or angry partings. He was ready to stay with her for good. And yet, after twenty-four years, it seemed like Lorelai still wouldn't let him in fully. She was still the same girl who, no matter how much she had truly loved him and his companionship when they were dating, had told him she could raise their child all by herself.

Chris had been looking forward to Christmas. But now, knowing that Rory was coming home and that the four of them would be spending a lot of time together as a family, memories of last year had begun to haunt him. Especially in this past week, Chris had become more than a little apprehensive about the holidays.


	20. Chapter 20

Over the next week, Lorelai was busy running around for last minute Christmas preparations. Even though Stars Hollow was annoyingly green, snowless and even mild, the un-Christmas-like weather couldn't dampen Lorelai's spirits. She was more excited for Christmas than she had been in a long time. A few days before Christmas, she decided that she was going to pull out all the stops on making the house look like a Christmas wonderland. Singing Jingle Bells, and making up her own verses as she went along, Lorelai was unpacking boxes of Christmas decorations when the phone rang. With a garland twined around her shoulders, Lorelai picked up the phone, slightly breathless.

"Hello?"

"Hi," said Chris. "What are you up to?"

"Oh, I just ran down to Doose's to buy some eggnog, and then I splurged on some candy canes which were on sale. Which is actually shocking considering it's not after Christmas yet. Oh, and I found some very cute snowmen that sing when you punch them. I put them on my windowsill to keep Paul Anka from figuring it out and abusing them. So what's new with you?"

"Compared to you, my life's like sitting in the Sahara on a dry year. But hey, here's something new. You free for dinner Sunday night?"

"Saturday night? The night two nights before Christmas Eve?"

"Exactly, thus the reason for my Mom's Christmas dinner."

"Ah."

"You care to elaborate?"

"The last time I saw your mom, she called me one of those girls, and she wasn't referring to the Spice Girls."

"It's been that long, huh?"

"Ask her, and she'll tell you hasn't been long enough."

"Lor. I know my mom has not been your biggest cheerleader. But—"

"But she's mellowed over the years?"

"There's been an observable amount of mellowing."

"I'm really glad to hear that, 'cause Gigi needs a grandma who actually wants her in her life."

"Lor. I can't keep apologizing for my mom. But if it makes you feel better, she asked for Rory to come too."

"That has got to be the eighth wonder of the world, right there."

"Cut her a little slack. I said nothing, but she still said she wanted all three of us there."

"And when I get there, she's going to tell me I should have gone to visit a relative the way good girls do when they get pregnant at sixteen."

"I will be right at your side the whole time, and the minute she steps out of line, I'm putting her right back in her place."

"That sounds very tempting. Let me think for a second…No."

"Lor, we're not kids anymore. We can face these things."

"Okay, so, you go and face your mom and say Lorelai regrets that she can't come, but maybe next time."

"The same way I give my regrets for Friday night dinner?"

"Yeah, well, my parents love you."

"My mom's going to love you too. It might take her till 2020, but she'll fall for you."

"I'll wait for the fall until sometime in the New Year." Chris exhaled audibly, and Lorelai softened her tone, just slightly. "If that's okay with you."

"What can I say?" Christopher's voice was surprisingly emotionless. "You've made up your mind."

"Yes, I have," Lorelai chirped. It was as though the past few minutes of conversation had been wiped from the record. "Hey, guess what else I made up my mind to do?"

"Go bungee jumping off the Grand Canyon."

"Nope, but almost that dangerous. I have a batch of Christmas cookies in the oven."

"Excellent. I will be over to eat them Sunday morning when we put up the tree."

"Okay, but don't blame me if they're not around much longer, 'cause it may be hard to believe, but the whole town raved about my jello this summer."

"Congratulations on mastering instant Jello."

"You're going to love my cookies, mister."

* * *

Late Sunday morning, Lorelai was busy decorating the house for Christmas, humming, when Chris rang the doorbell. She flung the door open, tugged his arm and pulled him inside, clapping one hand over his eyes as she did so.

"Ten minutes too early, but ignore the tinsel on the floor and I'll forgive you."

"I am blind to tinsel," said Chris resignedly.

"Okay, stand and prepare to be amazed." She slipped her hand from his eyes. Chris blinked. He saw a living room festooned in red and green--ribbons, garlands, wreaths, mistletoe (draped over the chandelier, of course, thought Chris with an inner groan). In the corner stood the piece de resistance: a towering Christmas tree glittering with decorations. And there, standing beside him with sparkling eyes, was a woman who, much as he loved her, right now summoned feelings of irritation and displeasure he couldn't wish away.

"Wow," said Chris, in an almost-monotone.

"You're not impressed. Tell me why you're not impressed."

"I am impressed. Your decorating skills put Martha Stewart to shame."

"Aren't the snowmen adorable?"

"They look very snowy."

"And I put the star on top of the tree all by myself."

Chris rubbed his forehead. "I thought we were going to put up the tree together."

"But then I got the brilliant idea that if I did it all beforehand, we would have time to sit in front of the fire and relax and watch _White Christmas_."

Chris managed to smile. "For the eighteenth time, or the nineteenth?"

"For however many Christmases it's been since 1986. But this year there is no question. We need the Christmas atmosphere. If snow is going to betray me, I'm going to fight back."

"No offense, but I don't think _White Christmas_ is going to make it any snowier around here."

"Darn it, this has been two years in a row that snow hasn't been kind to me."

"Did you aggravate it?"

"Shoveled it to death a few times."

"That might do it."

"But I have decided that nothing can spoil my mood. Not even snow and its fickle friendship."

"Norman Vincent Peale would be proud."

"Seriously, who can be down on the day before Christmas Eve?"

"Clearly, no one, except those poor people who wait until Christmas morning until their burst of festive cheer."

"But the day before Christmas is a thousand times more worthy of cheer than Christmas morning."

"Clarify."

"Well, first of all, Christmas Day is a let-down, because as soon as you open your eyes, part of it is already over."

"Your solution: get up at midnight on Christmas Day."

"Ah, but technically that's still Christmas Eve. Which is itself a let-down because when you have the word Christmas in the name of a day, you expect it to feel like Christmas, but it doesn't, because half the people in town are working half the day and the other half are running around Christmas shopping like Arnold Schwarzenegger after Turbo-Man."

"That's it, I'm going to pack in my tree."

"No, no, because it's the day before Christmas Eve when everything feels like Christmas. It's the peak, it's the zenith, it's the day when the Christmas carols play all day and the kids are on Christmas break and everybody's happy and the sane people have finished shopping and the insane haven't yet started, and all is wonderful with the world. Except for the fact that snow this year has decided to betray me." Lorelai gave a fallen snowman a vigorous kick for emphasis, at which it began singing "Frosty the Snowman", in a tinny voice.

"Sorry, Frosty, but you've got nothing on Gene Autry," said Lorelai to the snowman, picking it up.

"You, ah, might want to take out your wrath on something other than a stuffed snowman," Chris answered, amused.

"Wrath? Me? Who's wrathful? No, I'm still happy because, the greatest of the great reasons to celebrate the day before Christmas Eve this year: our daughter is coming home."

"Now you're talking exciting. Want me to bring her home again? You can whip up some more of those cookies you've got going there."

"No, apparently our ungrateful child is getting a ride home with Logan."

"I'm sensing a lot of Logan in the conversations lately."

"Really? In her last e-mail there was a lot of "he", but only one "Logan."

"You got to learn to read between the lines."

"Wow, now that I think about it, between the lines there were at least twenty possible Logan references. Thirty at the outside. Okay, that's it. When she gets here, she and I going to grab a couple of mugs of coffee and sit on the couch and talk all night."

"Actually, I thought, when she gets here I'm going to drag her out for a last-minute Christmas shopping bonanza."

"On the day before Christmas Eve?"

"Yeah, that's when the sane people do their shopping, remember?"

"No, that's when the sane people have finished and the insane haven't started."

"Well, I guess that makes me normal then."

"Chris, seriously, I don't think it's a great idea."

"Why not?"

"How long has it been since we've seen Rory?"

"About four weeks. So won't it be great to go look for Gigi's presents with her?"

"I'm sick of shopping. In the last few days shop till you drop has acquired a whole new meaning for me."

"Great. You don't have to come along."

"Okay," said Lorelai, in a tone that suggested she was anything but okay with the plan.

"Okay?"

"You do realize that it's a three hour plane trip to get here. Rory will be tired."

"All the more reason for some walking. Stretch her legs."

"Okay, here's the new and improved plan," said Lorelai quickly, as though she were making a generous concession. "She and I walk over to the Inn after she gets here, Michel brews us some coffee, we have a chat, and then all four of us can go to the mall and maybe catch a movie."

"Quite the itinerary for a jet-lagged girl."

"She's twenty-two, she doesn't need sleep. Especially not after some of Michel's coffee. Did I tell you what he's been doing to it?"

"No, but I'm guessing I'm going to find out."

"He's been trying to make amaretto with liqueur to make us seem more classy and French, and the end result is some drunk patrons."

"Michel's been intoxicating your guests with coffee? I've got to get to know this guy."

"Oh, he's talented, is Michel. So you ready to cuddle up on the couch and watch Bing Crosby sing "White Christmas"?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No. But I promise I won't make you do this every year."

They sat watching the movie quietly for a while, Lorelai smiling contentedly and, after a few minutes, sliding closer to Chris. In the back of his mind, Christopher knew she wanted him to put his arm around her, but he was too busy thinking to do so. Besides, he was annoyed and frustrated. In the past few days, everything had gone exactly as Lorelai wanted it to. She'd wriggled out of his mother's Christmas party. She'd decorated the Christmas tree the way she wanted to before he'd arrived. And what stung most of all was that she'd commandeered all of Rory's time. He'd only wanted a couple of hours of father-daughter time with Rory. After that, she was all Lorelai's. But apparently he didn't even get that much.

Chris' thoughts wandered back to the television, noticing that Danny Kaye and Vera-Ellen were dazzling the screen with their dance moves. Lorelai felt him shift and glanced up into his face.

"Isn't this nice?" she murmured, her eyes soft, watching for his reaction.

"Are those legs, or are they sticks?"

"You know deep down you prefer my shapely calves." Lorelai looked up at him again, clearly wanting a reaction. Resignedly, Chris rested his arm on the back of the couch, and Lorelai snuggled closer, obviously pleased. She continued watching the TV intently. Bing Crosby began to croon.

"Totally beautiful," said Lorelai dreamily.

"The classic of Christmas classics," agreed Chris.

"Oh, yeah, Bing Crosby can sing. No, I was thinking of this room, right here, right now."

"It looks very Christmasy."

"When I was a little girl, I used to want to decorate my house like this. The tree was going to be right in that corner and the tinsel was going to be shining and the snowmen were going to sit along the windowsill. The odor of burnt cookies was going to fill the house, and I was going to be watching White Christmas as it got dark outside. And pure perfection would fill the house."

"So what stopped you from achieving it before?"

"I don't know. I guess the mood was never right. The muse was never there. But now--"

"It was your lucky year."

"I could sit here like this for the rest of the day," sighed Lorelai contentedly. "We have everything we need right here. Who cares if it never snows."

"I can't say I'm gonna stage a protest," Chris admitted, smiling slightly.

The music in the background played on. Christopher's eyes drifted over the screen. He was thinking about the Christmas gifts he still had to get, wondering how he was going to get Gigi properly bundled up for Christmas Eve at Richard and Emily's this year. He assumed Lorelai was equally intent on the screen, but suddenly he felt her shift beside him. It was a slight, tentative movement, but it jolted him into awareness far more effectively than a more decisive movement would have. He turned his head slightly towards Lorelai, still keeping both eyes on the screen.

"Chris," she said suddenly, very quietly.

A chill ran down Christopher's spine. Something in her tone warned him. "Yeah?" he responded slowly.

Her voice was soft, hesitant, yet surprisingly vulnerable and unguarded. "You know when you said that we were right together, and you'd wait till we were eighty for me to get it?"

"Lor…" he said, his body tightening.

She wouldn't let him finish. "I get it."

"You do?"

"I do."

There was silence for a moment. Chris sighed heavily; neither his eyes nor his mouth were smiling. She turned to him, her eyes pleading. "Chris, it's true."

He stared ahead of him. "I believe you."

Her tone was hopeful. "Yeah?"

He shook his head, then stood. "I just can't take this right now. I'm sorry."

Lorelai looked after him, her face white. "You're leaving?"

Chris picked up his sweater from the arm of the couch. "I have some stuff to do before Rory gets here."

Lorelai rose. "Chris."

Chris turned. "Lor. I know you get it. It's great you get it. But did you ever think that maybe I don't?"

"What?"

Chris faced Lorelai from a distance. His expression was pained. "I don't know what to think anymore."

"Think what I told you. I get--"

"But you do one thing and you say something else. Seven years ago I come here and you sleep with me, and the next day I feel like it didn't mean anything."

"It did--it meant something, it just wasn't the right time for us."

"But last year went down exactly the same way. You come to me and we sleep together and maybe I read way too much into it, but the way things went that night, I thought there was something between us. But the next morning, it didn't mean anything and you have to get back to Paul Anka."

"I was confused. I just broke up with Luke and I--"

"This has nothing to do with Luke."

"No, it doesn't!"

""You married me and the next thing I know, you don't really want to be married. You say it was Luke and I was just this possibility in the back of your mind. That hurt me, by the way. And I took you back, I was going to give you another chance, but you won't let me in. You never let me in. I get so far and then you slam the door in my face. I wanted two hours with Rory. You've had her for twenty-two years and I wanted her for two hours."

"Hang on. I never kept Rory from you."

"No, you're right, you didn't. I stayed away. But it took two of us to make her."

"Yeah, it did," said Lorelai, the edge in her voice suddnely turning into a softer tremble.

"When you left with her, I felt like you didn't need me. And you know what? You didn't."

"Rory always needed her dad."

"Then how do you explain the fact that every time I came back here, it looked like everything was going pretty fine without me?"

"It was going fine but that doesn't mean that I didn't want you to come back. I missed you when you were in California. I didn't go notify the newspapers but it was there. I didn't talk about it because I wanted you to stay in California, follow your dreams."

"My dream was to be with you."

"Well, look, here we are."

Chris looked at Lorelai wearily. "We've been here before. Same forest, same trees. I'm getting too old for this."

"Chris." Lorelai was obviously uncomfortable, struggling to get the words out, scrunching up her face. "I, um...I fell in love with you a long time ago. I don't think I can just stop."

Chris was unmoved. "I know you love me, and you know I love you. But maybe that's not enough. I always thought it was, but we go through the same cycle over and over again and we never get anywhere. We get together, we're happy for awhile, then you push me away, or I let you down. I'm really sorry."

"Chris! There isn't a cycle. There was years ago and honey, you weren't ready. We weren't ready. Last year I would have been ready but I needed time. But I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

Chris, however, had already turned and was heading towards the door. Lorelai, panicked, followed him. "Chris!"

At the door, he turned to her. "Lor. Don't you know how much it hurts me to say I failed? That we failed? The only thing I can do is move away again because otherwise we'll keep going back and back to each other and no matter what, we'll let each other down."

Lorelai, astonished, disbelieving, shook her head. Chris looked at her, apologetic, pitying.

"You had to have known. It was going to end some day."

"Where are you going?" asked Lorelai, desperation in her voice.

"Home."

"To do what?"

"To think things through. Goodbye, Lor."

Lorelai stood at the door, her heart racing. Christopher had left before, many times. But not like this.


	21. Chapter 21

An hour and a half later, Lorelai was still sitting curled up on the couch, her chin resting on a pillow, when the doorbell rang. Startled, Lorelai wiped away the tears that had been forming in her eyes. Chris? Could he have driven to his apartment and come back already?

She peered out the window. A familiar-looking vehicle was pulling away—one that looked a lot like Logan's. Suddenly it hit her. Rory! She'd completely forgotten. Lorelai rushed to the hall mirror to check her face. She rubbed it, hoping there were no more signs of the tears she'd spilled an hour ago. Then she opened the door, just as the ring of the doorbell sounded again.

"Mom!"

There stood her daughter, suitcases in tow. Lorelai hugged her. "You're back early!"

"Yep, Logan made good time."

"Just tell me he didn't speed," Lorelai replied, shutting the door behind them.

"I don't know, I didn't have my eyes on the speedometer every single second."

"That means your eyes were elsewhere. Which means you and I have some stuff to talk about."

Rory shrugged out of her coat. "My eyes were closed half the time. Seriously, I was tired."

"Oh no, are you too tired to go Christmas shopping with your dad?"

"What?" asked Rory, stopping in the middle of folding her scarf. "Where is Dad?"

"He, um, he went home to get a few things before you came, but he wanted to take you to the mall later to look for a present for Gigi."

"Oh, okay, I can do that, 'cause my Gigi gifts aren't the greatest."

"Okay, great. How about you give Dad a call and tell him to get over here and pick you up? That way you guys can be done early."

"All right. You want to come with us?"

"No, uh, actually, I've got to run into town to get some stuff myself, so I'll probably be gone before your dad gets here."

"You're not sticking around to see Dad?" asked Rory in mild surprise.

"I just saw Dad. We just watched White Christmas together."

"Ah," Rory grinned. "Okay, I'll dial Dad and you head out before the storm gets here."

"Storm? What storm? Is there the word "snow" before that storm, or is it just rain? Please tell me it's not rain. Or hail."

"It's supposed to snow like six inches before midnight, Mom."

"Ha. I will believe it when I see it."

Lorelai scrambled around the entryway, moving Rory's suitcase and bags until they were lined up against the wall. On the second step of the stairs, she paused. "Seriously, hon, you and I are going to catch up when I get back, okay?"

Holding a phone to her ear, Rory came out of the living room to appear in Lorelai's view. "Dad!" she said, holding up a hand to let her mother know she couldn't be interrupted at the moment.

Lorelai blinked, the animated expression on her face suddenly transforming into a mask. Staring straight ahead, she hurried up the stairs.

* * *

Half an hour later, Chris was on the road again, nearing the Stars Hollow population sign. His heart was racing, and he swore his blood pressure was rising. It was all due to Lorelai, and not because of the way Lorelai usually affected his heart rate and his blood pressure.

Chris tried to take a deep breath. His frustration and anxiety weren't completely Lorelai's fault. He was the one who had started the argument. Lorelai, of all things, had been telling him she thought they were right together. At any other moment in the history of their relationship, Chris would have been astonished and ecstatic. He probably would have swept Lorelai into his arms right there.

But Lorelai had picked the worst moment to stage her big announcement. Chris had been sitting on the couch, feeling disgruntled, while Lorelai bubbled about the idyllic Christmas she was enjoying. She was in a buoyant mood (because she hadn't had to endure dinner with his mother two days before). She'd won the rights to Rory's undivided attention, the whole house was decorated exactly the way she wanted it...and Chris was sitting exactly where she wanted him, completing the picture-perfect scene. No matter that he hadn't even had a say in the movie they were watching--no matter that he hadn't actually had much of a say in anything for the last few days. Lorelai was happy, and apparently that was all that mattered.

She'd said the words he'd wanted her to say a year ago--no, twenty years ago. Lorelai Gilmore had actually told him that they belonged together, that she didn't want anyone except him. Yet instead of feeling his heart swell with joy, at that moment, Chris had felt like nothing more than another puppet in the theatre of Lorelai's whims. He'd been annoyed. He'd let his frustrations explode, and Lorelai had been clearly taken aback. Chris knew, with a stab of guilt, that he'd hurt Lorelai.

He hadn't intended to, but she made it so hard for him sometimes. It wasn't just the incidents of the past week; it was all the accumulated frustrations and brick walls of the last year and the last twenty years. They never moved forwards; it felt like they never would.

Yet, somehow, Chris knew that despite what he'd said to Lorelai, he wasn't going to end their relationship. Maybe he was weak, maybe he was an eternal optimist, or maybe he was a fool, but Lorelai was still the only woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. She just made it so terribly difficult sometimes. That was why his heartbeat was accelerating and his forehead felt tight. He didn't want their reunion with their daughter to be strained by the underlying tension between himself and her mother. He didn't want this Christmas to be like last Christmas. Christopher's lips were were set tightly as he pulled into Lorelai's driveway.

His face was grim as he rang the doorbell, even as he tried to prepare his face to smile for Rory. When no one answered the door, Christopher half-believed that Lorelai had decided to lock him out. Nevertheless, he fished in his coat pocket for his spare key. When Rory called, she'd said her mother had suggested she call. Chris had to admit that there had been a look of real alarm in Lorelai's eyes as he'd walked out, and despite his feelings of aggravation, he knew why. He'd only intended to go home to cool off, but the words he said had probably sounded like he was leaving for good. By telling Rory to call him, Lorelai had probably been trying to make amends.

Chris was turning the key in the lock when the door flew open.

"Dad!"

"Hey, kiddo!" Chris answered as he stepped inside, the smile coming easily after all. "You're home!"

"So are you! Here, take this." Rory thrust a wrapped box towards him. Chris stared at it with a befuddled look.

"What?"

"Take it to your apartment and hide it, because there's no way I can keep Mom from finding it for two more days."

"It's wrapped," Chris pointed out.

"That's never stopped Mom before."

"Where is Mom right now?" Chris asked, looking nervously around the house.

"Oh, she went to run some errands," Rory responded, pulling on her gloves.

"Mom went out?"

"Yeah, she went shopping. And I could be wrong, but I don't think she was shopping for Gigi. Speaking of which, I had no idea what to get Gigi. I bought her a Barbie, but I wasn't the Barbie type when I was younger, so I don't want to give her something she'll hate."

Distracted by his own thoughts, Chris allowed a second to pass before he answered. "Okay. Well, your sister has recently gotten heavily into Dora the Explorer."

"Okay. Video store, then toy store."

"Good thinking."

* * *

Lorelai had been driving for nearly half an hour, and she still had no idea where she was going. She just wanted to be out of the house, on the road. She kept blinking, trying to stave off the tears that threatened more forcefully with every turn of the road.

Chris had just walked away. His reaction had been like a bolt from the blue. Lorelai honestly hadn't seen it coming; if she had, she would have never been so vulnerable with him, would never have confessed her feelings. She honestly hadn't known that Chris felt shut out or mistreated. His words stung, but it was an unfamiliar kind of pain she couldn't quite define. Whenever Luke had been angry or unresponsive, her heart had dropped like a stone and her imagination had started to spin in fear. Back then, she'd felt real terror at the prospect of Luke leaving her. If Luke ever walked away, it would mean the loss of a constant source of support and security. But Chris walking away was totally different. Lorelai had never relied on Chris the way she had on Luke. Anyway, she'd learned in the last two years that no one, not even Luke, could meet all her needs perfectly. Nowadays, Lorelai felt reasonably assured of her own ability to cope in difficult situations. The broken engagement and the broken marriage might have been partly her own fault, but at least she had survived. She still had her job, her family, and her friends. Miraculously, even Christopher had taken her back.

She didn't feel that she'd drown without Christopher. She'd managed just fine without him for twenty-two years; and anyway, he'd always be around to some extent, because of Rory. Maybe he was right, and maybe they'd never have a permanent relationship. She could handle that. She'd handled it for twenty years.

Then why did it hurt so much? It was the look on his face--that tired, disillusioned look--that hurt the most.

If she didn't stop driving, the flood of tears might come, so Lorelai kept right on going, even though her vision was now blurred. What she and Christopher had together, when it was good, was so good. She knew she'd sold him short during their marriage, and she'd been trying to make up for it. Begging out of his mother's dinner, decorating the tree herself, insisting that the two of them spend time with Rory together instead of Chris and Rory going off on their own--those were all such little things. Luke would have given in on any of those issues without a fuss. He'd always just wanted to see her happy. Chris, on the other hand, apparently only cared about himself.

But for some reason, Lorelai couldn't find it in her heart to be angry with Chris. All she could think of was that, without even realizing it, she'd hurt him. It wasn't a feeling she regularly experienced, but Lorelai felt as though she was feeling Christopher's own pain. Lorelai shook herself. She couldn't keep driving on like this. She had no idea where she was headed, it was nearing late afternoon, and she was wasting gas. She wondered how far she'd gone. She had to be nearly...

...at her parents' house.

The realization hit Lorelai like ice water. How on earth had she ended up here, less than five minutes away from the Gilmore residence? Had she been in her right mind? The first thing she'd done once Rory was old enough was run away from that place, with the intention of never returning. She'd made her home in Stars Hollow. Of all the routes she could have taken, how on earth had she ended up minutes from her parents' house?

Panicked, Lorelai decided to turn around instantly. At the next driveway, she would pull in and back out again. Then her heart beat faster. The next driveway? It was her parents'. She'd have to make a three-point turn. Lorelai signaled to the right and glanced in her rearview mirror, only to see, close behind her, an SUV that had somehow escaped her notice. In the driver's seat was an eerily familiar face.

It was Clara, Emily's maid. Dismayed, Lorelai stared into the rearview mirror for several seconds. She didn't notice her slowing speed until the black SUV behind her began roving to the left, clearly impatient and looking for a chance to pass. Lorelai hit the gas, hoping Clara hadn't recognized her vehicle. It was too late; the vehicle was already passing her, and as Lorelai glanced guiltily to the left, she had a full view of Clara's face, staring wide-eyed at her. Inwardly, Lorelai groaned. At last week's Friday night dinner, she had learned, to her profound disinterest, that her mother was on the verge of firing Clara for her loose tongue. Suddenly, Clara's loose tongue was a matter of great personal interest to Lorelai. Within five minutes of Clara's arrival at the Gilmore house this afternoon, the entire household was going to know that Lorelai had meandered past her parents' house without stopping.

This close to Christmas, Lorelai couldn't risk the fall-out. Wearily, she resigned herself to the inevitable. She allowed Clara to pass her, watched the familiar driveway gradually approach, and finally turned into it.

As Lorelai parked, a thought leapt into her head. Maybe her mother wasn't home. Maybe both her parents were gone. It was probably a vain hope, but she was going to cling to it until someone opened the door. She would rather hope against hope that her parents would be out of the house, than accept the fact that her day was going to turn out worse than it already had.

Slowly, Lorelai walked up the steps. She had barely pressed the doorbell when, to her surprise, it opened. Her father stood before her, beaming placidly. Lorelai drew a deep breath and braced herself.

"Hi, Dad. So, what, do you have a sixth sense now?"

"No, but I have Clara, and she's as good as seven senses," smiled Richard, turning to nod at someone standing behind him. Peeking around the doorway of the dining room, Clara smiled, her eyes narrowing slightly. In return, Lorelai offered an artificial smile that vanished almost instantly.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?" Richard asked.

"Oh, I don't know," said Lorelai lamely. "I was just in the neighbourhood and I thought I'd stop by."

"Well, that was very thoughtful of you, although I have to say that this neighbourhood is quite a distance from yours."

"Yeah," Lorelai muttered. She nodded lightly towards Clara, who hadn't moved and was watching with a sharp eye. In a low voice, she said to her father, "Can you…"

Richard turned. "Oh. Clara, Emily wanted you to have a look at the Christmas tablecloths. There may be an epidemic of moths in the attic. "

Pursing her lips, Clara turned and began ambling away. Lorelai's face twitched into a brief smile. Richard called after Clara, "And if we have moths, Emily would like us to switch to a different brand of mothballs. Perhaps you should empty all the boxes entirely."

Clara didn't turn her head, but apparently realizing that Richard meant business, she began clicking her heels more quickly towards the stairs. Richard turned back towards Lorelai, his expression unreadable.

"Now, what were you saying, Lorelai? Why don't we go into the living room?"

Meekly, Lorelai followed her father and, at his gestures, sat down across from him. Her father's expression was still inscrutable, and Lorelai couldn't discern whether he was in a mild or severe mood.

"So," she began, looking at the floor.

"So, Emily and I are looking forward to seeing you and Christopher and Rory for Christmas dinner tomorrow night. "

Lorelai shuffled her feet, too spent to cover up the truth or pick an argument. "Yeah, well, you might want to stop looking forward. Chris and I had a fight."

His brow darkening, Richard rose for a second and then, apparently thinking better of it, sat down. Lorelai waited. Richard took a deep breath. "All right, you had a fight. Now you go home and patch things up."

"No, I don't think Chris wants to hear from me. I think it's over."

Richard rose decisively this time, exasperated.

"Why is it that with you and Christopher, the first fight, the first upset, is the end of the relationship? Is it too much to ask after twenty years that my daughter and the father of her child actually stay together?"

Lorelai twisted her fingers. "No. Yes. I don't know."

"Of course you know something," Richard rejoined impatiently. "You're the second party in this marriage."

"But I don't know anything. I don't know if Chris wants to be with me."

Richard sat down on the edge of his seat. "Well then, that makes two of you."

"What?"

"Those were the exact words Christopher said to me when we were golfing. He said, 'Lorelai doesn't want to be with me.' "

"You played golf with Christopher?"

"No, don't derail the subject. I'm not finished."

"Who's doing the derailing? I didn't bring up the topic of this secret golf tournament."

"There were no secrets. I simply thought that you and Christopher had spent enough time playing these high school games. It was time for someone to intervene."

"Intervening, hmm. Yeah, that's something you and Mom know a lot about. Well you can stop intervening, Dad, because apparently it doesn't matter whether I try or he tries or we both try, we just can't make it work."

Richard appeared not to have heard. "I used to watch you and Christopher together and I used to be proud because I thought, 'My daughter loves a boy I'm not going to be ashamed of giving her to."

"Yeah, because he was a Hayden."

"Hayden or no Hayden, Christopher was good for you."

"I know you love Chris, but that love wasn't showing when he got me pregnant with Rory."

"I won't deny the two of you made an enormous mistake, but Rory was no mistake. You and Christopher should have waited ten years and married first before you had her, but that's water under the bridge. You and Christopher are married now, and I wish the two of you would get past your newlywed problems and make it last."

"Because you can't bear to see your daughter become a divorcee?"

"No, because you're my daughter and I want nothing less than the best for you."

"What's best for me, Dad, or what's best for you?"

"Lorelai, we may disagree on some things, but I've watched you and Christopher since before you could read the labels on my wine bottles. And from the time you two went out on your first date I thought Christopher was the one for you. When the two of you are together, it looks like no one else in the world could make you happier, and it's a pleasure to watch. I know what it feels like. I felt that way when I met your mother."

From behind them, Emily spoke. "I've never heard that."

Both Richard and Lorelai—who was far more startled than her father—turned to look at Emily, standing with her purse in hand in the doorway of the room.

"Well, it's true," said Richard with a smile.

Emily looked to Lorelai. "Hi, Mom," said Lorelai with a feeble wave.

"Lorelai. What a surprise."

"Yeah, I'm surprised too, and I am not kidding about that one."

"You're somewhat early for the Christmas party," Emily remarked drily.

"Emily, Christopher and Lorelai had a fight," said Richard.

Lorelai rose to her feet. Her voice, though raised, verged on tears.

"Okay, that's it, I'm walking out. For God's sake, Dad, couldn't you have cut the intervening for five seconds?"

Emily spoke sharply. "Lorelai Gilmore, come back here."

In the hallway, Lorelai turned, tears in her eyes. "Why, Mom? So you can give me another endless spiel about how Christopher is good for me and I belong with him and I'm throwing him away? Well guess what? I know Chris is good for me and I know I could have been happy with him and I know I probably blew it. So there's your consolation. You were right. I should be with him. I should have married him when you told me to. Chris and I aren't ever going to stay together now, but at least you, Mom, were right."

Lorelai walked quietly to the door. Emily stood behind her for a second, then followed.

"Lorelai."

"What, Mom?"

"You shouldn't have married Christopher at sixteen. Your father and I were wrong about that."

"What?"

"It's difficult for me to say this, so I'm only going to say it once. I should have said it sooner. You were right. You weren't ready for marriage at sixteen, and you never belonged in Hartford. "

"You could have said that a lot sooner, Mom. I know I'm not fit for classy old-school A-list Hartford."

"Well, you lack decorum, but it's not that. I don't understand you, Lorelai. I didn't agree with your choice to live in Stars Hollow and I still don't understand it, but I was wrong to try to make you live a life you simply can't lead. "

"I know I let you down, okay, Mom? I have heard it since I was three years old and I wanted my hair in pigtails instead of ringlets. I really don't need to hear it again right now."

"Lorelai, you're not listening to me. You haven't let me down. You've become what, only God knows why, you were made to be. "

"And guess what, Mom? I had to leave Hartford to be that person."

"I know that. I'm well aware that all children have to fly the nest eventually. I've accepted that you've flown." Emily's voice, to Lorelai's astonishment, trembled slightly. "I suppose I just want to know that all those years I spent raising you weren't completely in vain."

Lorelai sighed. "Mom. I'm your daughter. Much as I used to wish it, I didn't just spring fully formed from U2's drum kit. I ran away to Stars Hollow twenty-two years ago, and every day I still hear your voice echoing through my mind telling me how to be a lady."

"You made me sick with shame when you left, Lorelai. But I also missed you."

"You don't have to miss me, Mom. I'm never going to be completely gone. Somehow, call it the destiny of the gods or what you will, I keep finding myself back here in Hartford."

"I hope you and Christopher both find yourselves here tomorrow night, along with that incredible daughter of yours," said Richard, appearing beside them at the door.

"You and Christopher and Rory have never celebrated Christmas together with us," Emily added.

"I wouldn't count on this being the one," answered Lorelai gloomily.

"Lorelai," Richard said, "your mother and I aren't asking for your presence every single minute of every day."

"But tomorrow night," added Emily, "you and Christopher, come home."


	22. Chapter 22

Lorelai didn't even try to stop the tears as she drove home. She was having an emotional afternoon. The crazy thing was, she still felt some attachment to her parents, and she was never going to completely get rid of it. Awful as they could be to her sometimes, they had their human moments. The realization was almost appalling, but she loved her parents. Maybe love wasn't quite the right word, not in the way she loved, say, Rory; but Lorelai could completely never get rid of the past and the people who'd raised her. She'd tried to run from Hartford twenty-three years ago, and so many times Lorelai had thought she'd almost succeeded. But every time, she was proved wrong. She'd gone driving tonight with no fixed destination in mind. Yet somehow, beyond all reason, beyond all conscious intention, after all those years of trying to escape Hartford and her parents' house, Lorelai had driven right back there. There was no such thing as leaving the past behind completely.

Christopher belonged to that past, and Lorelai had spent years trying to forget him. She'd thought she could move beyond Chris, do better than the first boy she'd fallen for. But every man who met her standards inevitably turned out to be something other than what she was looking for. Something she'd said a long time ago returned to her mind. "I don't think I really loved anyone until I met Luke."

Those words had seemed true then, and in a way, Lorelai still stood by them. But so much more went into her understanding of love, now. It had been really easy to love Luke at first. When she needed something fixed, Luke came with his toolkit and fixed it. When she was hungry, he fed her. When she was upset, he comforted her. When she needed someone to help her make a decision, Luke was there with firm but reassuring words. When she wanted attention and masculine affirmation, Luke gave her a full dose. It wasn't until this summer that Lorelai realized their relationship was missing something. They had a great friendship going, but after she'd gotten that unwanted reprieve from the relationship, Lorelai had come to realize that what she'd had with Luke wasn't what she wanted out of marriage. It wasn't as though she and Luke couldn't make a marriage work. With some more effort, they probably could have. But Lorelai was now deeply relieved that June 3rd, 2006 hadn't brought that wedding she'd so desperately yearned for. Luke was a wonderful man. There weren't enough men in the world like him.

But there was only one Christopher.

There wasn't any hard, fast logical reason that Lorelai could use to explain why she loved Christopher. If the two men were placed point for point beside each other on a checklist of desirable traits for a husband, or even a human being, Luke would probably win. But it was finally obvious to Lorelai that falling in love couldn't possibly be about picking the person with the best traits. If love worked like that, Hollywood stars and kings and presidents would never get divorced, and the fat, dowdy, uneducated moms she used to see at Rory's playgroup should never have even had someone who loved them long enough to give them children. But love didn't work like that. Impossible as it was to understand, there really was someone for everyone. Lorelai loved Chris because she was Lorelai, and he was Chris, and no one else understood them the way they did each other. Luke had loved Lorelai's bubbly flirtatiousness, but he'd never really comprehended her quick mind, her love of pop culture, or the way her drive for independence fought with her desire to be nurtured. For her own part, Lorelai had loved Luke's quiet selflessness, but she'd never understood his need to be alone, his moods, or half of what really went on deep within his mind. She and Luke had always loved and respected each other as human beings, but they'd never fully understood each other.

Lorelai and Christopher, on the other hand, did. And it wasn't because they thought identically, had identical interests, or made identical decisions. She and Christopher were certainly similar; Lorelai had never met anyone else with whom she could chat for hours about 80s music, or who could so quickly pick up on her references and her wit. They had similar personalities: Lorelai knew she and Christopher were both fun-loving and sociable and impulsive, sometimes bringing out the worst in each other. They shared similar values and upbringings; after all, they'd spent most of their childhoods together. But Lorelai was faster and more driven than Chris; and Chris possessed a calmness and quiet intensity at times when Lorelai's thoughts and feelings would scatter to the winds. He liked The Offspring; she liked Metallica.

Lorelai pulled up in front of her own house, her heart sinking strangely as she saw the empty driveway. Without realizing it, she'd been expecting Christopher and Rory to be back. But obviously, they weren't, or maybe Chris had dropped Rory off and left again. Wearily, Lorelai walked up the steps and let herself into the house. As she headed up the stairs to her bedroom, she picked up the train of thought she'd been following in the car.

No, she and Christopher definitely weren't identical. But if they were, their relationship wouldn't have a spark to keep it going: talking to Christopher would be like talking to a mirror. But it wasn't. It was fun, it was invigorating, it was exhilarating. Lorelai could talk and talk to Christopher for hours, laugh with him, spend days with him, and not get tired of it. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Christopher because she wanted to be with him constantly. And it wasn't because she needed anything from him. Unlike Luke, there wasn't much Christopher could offer her—except himself, his own unique personality. And that was enough, because something happened when she was with Christopher that never happened around any other man. Something new was created, and wonderful as Rory was, Rory wasn't the only result of their love. When she and Christopher were together, they created a world of fun, excitement, shared jokes and shared memories and shared secrets—a world only the two of them understood.

Lorelai knew she'd hurt Christopher tonight, and in doing so she'd damaged that connection they shared. She knew Chris was at least partly right; she'd always kept him at arm's length. But she didn't want to shut him out anymore. She was rapidly forgetting the reasons she'd ever done so in the first place. Lorelai had always wanted her independence, but over the last few months, the more she'd trusted Christopher and the more she'd gave to him, the more she'd received, until she finally knew—she wanted to give it all, so she could get it all--sp she could see the full potential of their relationship. Sacrificing some of her own wishes would be painful, but having her own way no longer mattered as much to Lorelai as what she could have with Chris.

Lorelai opened her closet and pulled a box from the top shelf. Placing the box on the floor, she carefully removed the lid and peered inside. Then she took two envelopes from the box and carried them to the bed. Flopping down on her stomach, Lorelai began emptying the envelopes, smiling wistfully as her eyes began to fill. So many pictures...so many memories. These were photos of herself and Christopher that she hadn't looked at in years. They'd known each other for so long. After twenty-three years, could she blame Chris if he'd been expecting more, if he felt like the occasional day together in the midst of separate lives wasn't enough?

Curling up on the bed and laying her head on the pillow, Lorelai thought that she wanted Chris to come home tonight; but more than that, she wanted him to stay home and never leave. But maybe she'd finally used up her last chance.

* * *

About an hour later, Rory and Christopher came through the door, Rory slightly ahead of Chris. "Mom!" she called. "We're home! You and I can have that hours-long conversation, as soon as I get something to eat."

She laid her bags down near the foot of the stairs and looked around. She turned back to Chris, who hung back at the door, not removing his coat. "Wasn't her vehicle in the driveway?"

"Either that, or a pretty good replica," Christopher agreed.

Rory darted into the kitchen. She came back a second later, a puzzled expression on her face. "Maybe she's upstairs," Rory said. "You check. I got to go put this ice cream in the freezer." With two bags in hand, Rory disappeared back into the kitchen. Chris looked after her with a half-pained, half-alarmed expression on his face. He fingered his coat uncertaintly. Then he shrugged it off and hung it over the bannister as he took the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, a few feet away from Lorelai's room, Christopher paused. The door was only open slightly, but a lamp was shining inside. For a few months, this room had been his room, too. At the time, Chris had finally felt that Lorelai had allowed him in fully; in all the years he had known her, it was the first time she had allowed him to sleep in her bedroom. Unfortunately, it hadn't lasted, and Chris felt that this room was as closed to him as ever.

But he wasn't going to wander away again in frustration. An afternoon with Rory had cleared his head. After all those years, against all reason, he would still rather spend a few minutes with Lorelai than a full lifetime with someone else. Besides, it had only been a month since they'd started dating again, and already, Lorelai had declared that she and Chris belonged together. That had to be some kind of progress. Chris knew he wasn't good at seeing his commitments through. This time, though, he wasn't going anywhere. Stepping forwards, Chris cautiously pushed open the bedroom door.

Lorelai was curled up on the bed, her cheeks tear-stained, a photo album in her hand. Pictures spilled out…she and Chris in first grade, sixth grade, tenth grade…always smiling, always together, the way they should be. Chris knew that this unguarded moment gave him a glimpse into what was going on in Lorelai's heart. He didn't need to doubt anymore. He turned a picture over. It had been taken at a Christmas banquet, only a few weeks before that fateful night of Rory's conception that had eventually turned their lives upside down, that had kept them apart for far too many years. He watched Lorelai lying there, a tissue in one clenched hand and tears streaking her face. So Lorelai finally felt it, too—that they'd spent too many years away from each other. Why had it taken her so long to get it?

Why had it taken him so long to be there for her?

The questions didn't matter now. Gently, Chris sat down on the bed; it scarcely creaked. Silently, he watched Lorelai for a while, listening to her even breathing. Every few seconds, her breath seemed to catch on a snag in her throat, a stifled sob. Very gently, Chris leaned forward and brushed a lock of hair out of her eye. In sleep, Lorelai looked so beautiful and uncharacteristically vulnerable. Softly, he kissed her on the cheek. Lorelai's eyes fluttered, and Chris leaned back to watch her. With a sigh, her breathing returned to the rhythm of sleep. Chris gently stroked her curled back. Then he rose noiselessly from the bed. Tiptoeing back out of their room, Chris shut the door, leaving the crack open exactly as wide as it had been before.

Rory looked up from a mound of wrapping paper and ribbon to see her father coming down the stairs.

"She's taking a nap, " he said.

"What, is Mom sick?"

"No, I don't think so. I just peeked into her room. I didn't want to bother her. I'm going to go out to get a few last-minute things. "

"Okay," shrugged Rory with a smile, returning to the intricate task of tying bows on presents.

* * *

An hour later, Rory heard the bathroom door close, and the sound of running water followed for a long time. Finally, the stairs creaked slowly, and her mom came into view. She looked beautiful in her red sweater, her skin freshly scrubbed and her hair still damp; but her eyes were tired. Whatever the reason was, Rory didn't feel like asking. It was Christmas. Everything was going to be okay.

"Hey, honey," said Lorelai.

"Hey. Did you have a good bath?"

"My skin probably looks like Yoda's, but yes, I did. Anything there I shouldn't see?"

"Nope, your presents are all wrapped. This is Gigi's stuff. Dad gave me some pointers."

Lorelai's face was tense, even though she walked casually to the Christmas tree and began unhurriedly fingering the ornaments, making a show of rearranging them.

"Where is Dad?" she asked, not looking at Rory.

"He said he had to go shopping one last time." When Lorelai didn't respond right away, Rory glanced behind her at the Christmas tree. Lorelai's back was still turned; she seemed to be deeply preoccupied.

"Consider yourself a lucky woman, Mom. I think he was shopping for you."

Lorelai bent down to fix the skirt of the tree. "Well, I am a lucky woman. My prodigal daughter is home for Christmas." She ended on an unconvincing squeal, as she finally turned. "How lucky can I get?"

"I don't know, Mom. Just don't start comparing yourself with Hilary Clinton, _sans_ the cheating husband part. She got to be first lady for eight years and now they say her nomination's a lock, despite the best efforts of your prodigal daughter to sell Barack Obama."

"Ah, you'll win 'em over yet. Just pull out that Oxford Dictionary and start packing on the adjectives. You should make up a jingle, like, "I've got a crush on Obama."

"Already been written, performed and played on TV."

"Darn, I thought I was getting that straight out of my pretty head. Tell you what, I'm going to warm up Sookie's lasagna and set the table."

"Don't you want to wait for Dad?" asked Rory, looking up briefly.

As she stood in the doorway of the kitchen, Lorelai's expression tensed again. She studied her fingernails. "When did your dad say he'd be back?"

"I don't know, but it can't be that long. There's a storm coming."

"How could I forget that storm? Okay, I'll, uh, set a plate for Dad, and yay for him if he makes it in time for hot lasagna and beats that two percent chance of a snow flurry." Lorelai turned on her heel and disappeared into the kitchen.

"I don't know what yardstick you're using," Rory called from beneath the wrapping paper, "but I think six inches qualifies as a little more than a flurry."

"Snow hates me," Lorelai retorted above the sound of clinking plates.

* * *

Two hours later, Lorelai and Rory were finally sitting down to plates of thrice-warmed lasagna that now felt more like wood than noodles. Rory, nevertheless, was eating; Lorelai was pushing food around on her plate.

"Dad's kind of late," Rory mumbled, chewing.

"Hmm," was Lorelai's uncharacteristically brief response.

"Maybe he went to pick Gigi up from Grandma Francine's."

"That must be it," Lorelai nodded.

Rory glanced across the table at her mother. "You're worried."

"Me? No. I'm not expecting a storm, remember?" said Lorelai, pushing her lasagna rather violently from one side of the plate to the other.

Rory sighed. "I don't want to know what's going on between you and Dad. But Mom, Dad's coming back."

"Okay," said Lorelai.

Rory looked at her mother's full plate. "Mom. Eat."

* * *

Nearly another hour later, Rory and Lorelai were finishing the dishes. Lorelai was strangely silent, and Rory had given up trying to start a conversation. In the silence, the sudden sound of the doorbell seemed loud. Lorelai halted. "Dad," Rory said, without looking up from the sink.

Lorelai stepped into the hallway as a key sounded in the lock. From a distance, Lorelai watched as Chris shoved his way through the door. Involuntarily, her shoulders relaxed in relief. Chris placed a single bag on the floor and looked at her, his expression unreadable.

"Hi," said Lorelai in a small voice.

"Hi," Chris answered.

They looked at each other for a minute, not speaking. Finally, Lorelai took a step forwards. "You're here."

Without responding, Chris opened the closet door; but instead of hanging up his own coat, he drew Lorelai's coat out of the closet and held it in front of him. "Come on," he said.

"What?" Lorelai was startled.

For the first time, Chris grinned. "Let's go! I have something to show you."

"Now? It's dark!"

"It is."

As Lorelai slowly approached, Chris helped her into her coat. In spite of herself, Lorelai smiled at the touch of Christopher's hands on her shoulders. "You came back," she said.

"I always come back," Chris responded.

"Next time, give me a timetable," said Lorelai, buttoning the coat.

Chris pulled the coat snugly around her neck. Into her ear, he answered, "Next time, I'm not going anywhere." Lorelai shivered slightly, but she wasn't cold.

"Rory!" Chris called. "We're going out. We'll be back."


	23. Chapter 23

After fifteen minutes in Christopher's car, neither Lorelai nor Christopher had spoken. Surprisingly, however, Lorelai didn't mind. She liked the small smile on Christopher's face as he drove east, she liked the warmth filling the car, and she very much liked the small shivers of electricity that were coursing through her body, filling it with a warmth unrelated to the heater. She felt like she and Christopher were on their first date all over again.

Finally, Christopher shot her a glance out of the corner of his eye. Lorelai returned the look. A smile played around the corners of his mouth, but Lorelai tried to keep her lips set.

"We are going somewhere, aren't we?" she asked skeptically.

"Maybe," said Chris, his eyes on the road again. He peered to his left. "We are definitely going to see something."

A minute later, suddenly, Chris signaled left and pulled into a strip mall whose stores were largely closed. He parked and unbuckled his seatbelt. Lorelai raised her eyebrows.

"You took me out in this freezing cold to see a strip mall?"

"That isn't the most awe-inspiring sight you've ever seen?"

Slamming the passenger door shut, Lorelai narrowed her eyes at him over the roof. Chris just chuckled, and as they came around the front of the vehicle, he took her hand. The slight tingle of electricity that Lorelai had felt in the car grew stronger. She pressed close to him.

Chris was sniffing the cold night air, drawing in deep, invigorated breaths.

"See what I mean?"

"A dollar store and a laundromat. Oh, and a tanning salon." Lorelai blew on her fingers. "Okay, those beaches on the windows look nice about now."

"If you want to look at them, but I was actually thinking of…"

Suddenly, Lorelai's eyes widened and she stared into the black sky. "Oh, my God. Snow!"

Lorelai broke her hand free from Christopher's grasp and skipped out into the middle of the parking lot. Her head thrown back and her arms stretched out, she inhaled the few scattered snowflakes in rapture.

"I take it back. I take everything I've said back. You didn't betray me. You do care."

Chris sidled over to Lorelai, smiling. She turned to him in delight.

"How did you know there'd be snow here?!"

"It was snowing further east when I was shopping. I figured it'd be here by now. Slow-moving snow, but it'll make it to town before morning."

Lorelai threw her head back and addressed the snow again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. I love you."

"I hate to break it to you, Lor, but snow can't actually hear you."

Slowly, Lorelai turned. Very deliberately, she wrapped her arms around Christopher's neck. Kissing him on the jaw, she whispered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." She kissed him lingeringly on the lips. "I love you."

Dazed, Christopher's knees began to weaken. With an effort, he leaned back and looked at her. She returned his gaze.

"C'mon," he said, gesturing towards a bench under the overhang of the mall, behind them. "Let's sit."

They sat down beside each other on the bench, watching the snow come down, thicker again. For a few minutes, there was silence. Then Chris spoke. "I'm sorry I walked away this afternoon."

"Don't be," said Lorelai softly. "I understand."

"I still shouldn't have walked away."

"I— "

"No, Lor. I married you. I made a promise to you. I've broken more promises to you and Rory than I can count, but I'm not going to break another one."

Lorelai's face was unsure, pained. "Are you saying you're just coming back to me out of duty?"

There was a pause. Quickly she added, "I mean, Chris, I understand. If you don't want to be with me anymore, just say so, and I won't blame you."

He sighed. "What do you want?"

"I can be a good wife to you. That stuff I said last winter--I thought I meant it but I was just scared. I thought we weren't going to last and you'd leave, but you didn't. I should have trusted you."

"Hey, if I was looking at my track record over the past twenty years I wouldn't trust me either. You were aiming for the gold standard, and it's going to take me at least another four lives to get there."

"Chris. I haven't been hanging out with you for the last few months just because of Gigi."

"You haven't acquired a sudden taste for Sponge Bob Square Pants and Strawberry Shortcake?"

"Only in small doses. Your company, on the other hand--"

"My dazzling wit is that riveting? Maybe I should apply for NBC's late night timeslot next year."

"Although I warn you that I may be a biased audience."

"So what changed your mind since last winter?"

"I guess, back then I kept thinking about Luke, but I finally realized we had next to nothing in common. I think I loved what Luke did for me more than Luke, the person."

"He was around for Rory, he was around for you. He was a five minute walk away every day. He was everything I should have been."

"I never gave you a chance to be there. I was afraid that if we ever got married you'd get sick of us and you'd leave."

"I was a kid. But you know something, Lor?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not sixteen anymore. I've been married and I know it didn't work out, but I wasn't the one who left."

"I know. I knew that last year. It's just, I just broke up with Luke and I didn't give him another chance. I just went to you, and I hate to tell you, hon, but you're not in the top ten on Luke's list of favourite people."

"You're kidding."

"So the longer I was with you the more guilty I felt."

"I rushed you. I know. I'm sorry, Lor.

"It wasn't just you. I think I was depressed and I didn't even know it. It wasn't you or us, it was me and my crazy head."

"It was scary, you know. I used to think I knew you."

"You still feel like you don't know me?" Lorelai's words were tentative, her eyes anxious.

"That depends which you we're talking about. The one I've seen for the past few months, I get."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. She's good company, she's great with Gigi, she's funny, and I've got to admit that her taste in music is up there with the greats, with the possible exception of Metallica."

"Which we won't get into."

"But then there's the one who showed up last year."

"She's gone. And if she shows up again, you can send me to a doctor or a therapist."

"Maybe I should book both of us."

Christopher stretched out an arm along the back of the bench, and Lorelai leaned against him. Together, they watched the snow fall thicker, faster.

"How come it took us so long?" Chris asked, finally.

"How come we kept coming back to each other?"

Chris paused for a second. "Well, you and I are like politicians and the press. They don't always get along, but they always come back to each other."

"So why is that?" asked Lorelai, settling more comfortably into the bench.

"Well, conventional wisdom would hold that they need each other to survive. But kings managed before newspapers and tabloids do pretty well without presidents, so there's got to be another explanation."

"There's an evil puppetmaster up there pulling strings?

"Either that, or they secretly love every minute they spend together."

"Are you saying I secretly love every minute I'm with you? 'Cause if so you've got quite the ego."

"Hey, that statement went two ways."

"Hmm, point taken."

Lorelai snuggled closer to Chris, completely forgetting about the cold. He put his arm around her.

"You think we can make it stick this time?" he asked.

"You mean have a marriage that lasts longer than fifty days?"

"Me coming home to you every day, us talking about movies and the price of gas and whatever else is on our minds so we don't leave each other in the dark?"

"I think I could handle that. Only don't bring up stuff from last winter, or I'll stop speaking to you."

"If you promise you won't remind me that I asked you to make your wedding vows in French."

"I made them, though. I'm still your wife."

"Unless there's been an announcement from the Vatican in the last hour or so," Chris agreed, leaning closer. Lorelai's eyes grew luminous.

"Maybe we should take things slower this time," Chris said, brushing snow off her hair.

"But not too slow," murmured Lorelai, flicking snow off his coat.

"About 40 miles an hour," he said, feeling her hands run languidly along the collar of his coat.

"In between the interstate and a dirt road," Lorelai answered.

"That sounds safe," Chris agreed, carelessly undoing the top button on her coat.

"You are safe," said Lorelai, kissing him on the cheek.

Chris angled his head to kiss her on the lips. "Hi."

"But not too safe," she added, shutting her eyes and leaning in. Their light kisses grew deeper; the snow fell more thickly and a colder wind blew around the mall, but neither of them felt it.

"Chris," said Lorelai, between kisses.

"Hmm," said Chris.

"You still don't like my story about the puppetmaster?"

"It's starting to look a little more convincing."

Lorelai smiled and slipped an arm around his neck. Christopher's heart was racing as he felt Lorelai's mouth probe his mouth, then press against his cheek, his jaw, while her fingers stroked his hair and neck. His body felt weak. Even after all those years, she could still do that to him with her touch. Before he even realized what he was doing, Chris was kissing her longer, more deeply, until he felt her arm around his shoulder slip and heard her moan against him. For a month he'd been good at keeping the limits, putting barriers between himself and Lorelai. But now his self-discipline was weakening. He had a pretty good idea where this was going, but he wasn't going to try to hold it off anymore.

Lorelai was dizzy; she felt Christopher's hand slipping beneath the collar of her coat, tracing the top of her sweater, then sliding down to her hip and staying there, squeezing her waist. She pressed closer to him, kissing him more urgently; and she heard a little groan from the back of his throat in response. Finally, abruptly, Christopher drew back. With a little chuckle he said, "Okay, I'm clocking about 65 miles an hour right now."

Pulling away from each other, they both tried to catch their breath. Suddenly, the sting of the night air was palpable again. Lorelai smiled, and Chris followed suit. She brushed some snow from his hair. She looked at him, a spark in her eyes. Taking his hand and fingering it, she said slowly, "I was thinking, if there's going to be a storm--maybe you should stay overnight."

"That's a tempting offer," said Chris, equally slowly.

"But you've got to get home," Lorelai finished for him, resignedly.

"No, my mom called and said Gigi's still staying the night there. But my back's a little old for the couch."

Lorelai looked up. "You don't have to sleep on the couch."

Chris raised an eyebrow. Then he stood. Lorelai rose with him, smiling.

"U2 or Culture Club on the way back?" she asked cheerfully.

"I was thinking something slow and romantic, a kind of get to know you again song. How about Lionel Richie singing 'Hello'?"

"You better be kidding."

"I listened to a lot of mellow music this past year."

"Okay, we have a CD purging to do when we get to your house."

"Maybe my music tastes changed."

"After twenty years?"

"Okay, you still know me. So, want to listen to Pavarotti sing Nessun Dorma in the car?"

"Christopher!"

"What?"

* * *

Much later that night, Lorelai was lying in bed with her head resting on Christopher's shoulder. She raised it a few inches to look at him. He was lying prone on his back, smiling, his fingers playing with her hair: the picture of deep satisfaction.

"So," Lorelai said, sighing.

"So," he said drowsily.

"You sorry you came back tonight?"

Chris glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You sorry you let me in here tonight?"

Lorelai lay back down and nuzzled up to his shoulder, kissing it. "No," she said, with another contented sigh. Lazily, she drummed her fingers on his chest. Chris smiled and slipped his arm underneath her. Slowly, he ran his arm up and down her back.

"That was almost a year," said Lorelai. "We're never doing that again. We're not making it a week again. Tomorrow you're moving your stuff back in, I don't care if you wreck my Christmas decor."

Chris shifted sleepily. "Okay."

"So, I was thinking," Lorelai said after a minute, "we could have that vow renewal my Mom wanted us to have last year, except do it our way. Compromise between them and us, you know?"

"That's an idea," agreed Christopher, his eyes blinking heavily.

"After Christmas we could look at bigger houses. Say, ten miles from Stars Hollow. Close enough to my work, yet far enough away that Sookie and company couldn't accuse you of invading the town."

"Hmm," said Chris, with a sound that seemed slightly like a snore.

"We could have separate rooms for Gigi and Rory. Maybe even a spare room, in case Susanna Hoffs responds to my invitations." Lorelai paused for a split second. "Or in case we need it for any other reason."

Chris didn't respond. Lorelai realized he was no longer stroking her back. After a few seconds, she looked at him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and regular, but his face still wore a smile. Gathering the rest of the blankets as the wind howled outside, Lorelai snuggled as close as she could to his warm body. Lying there in the dark, she was thinking. Twenty-three years ago, if someone had told her she and Christopher would be married, lying beside each other at night, she would have barely blinked. Ten years ago, she would have doubted it; and two years ago, she would have been appalled at the idea the man beside her wasn't Luke. A year ago, she'd been sure she and Christopher were over for good; and last summer, travelling the coast with Luke and April, she'd still been certain her future lay with Luke. But as it turned out, after all those years, she'd ended up with Christopher after all. And it was exactly where she wanted to be. For a few more minutes, Lorelai drank in the sound of Christopher's peaceful slumber beside her; and then, shutting her eyes and picturing a white Christmas, she drifted off into a blissful sleep of her own.

* * *

THE

END!


	24. Chapter 24

_Author's Note:_ I was already working on an epilogue when a couple of people requested an epilogue or a sequel. It was great to hear that there was some demand for it. So, by popular request... :)

**EPILOGUE**

_More than eight months later..._

It was Friday, September 5, 2008. Barack Obama had officially been declared the Democractic nominee, and now the only contest was going to be the one between Obama and McCain in November. Obama was in a second battle just as close as the one he'd recently fought with Hillary Clinton, and Rory should have been eager to witness it. She should have been thrilled that he'd made it this far, and energized by this home stretch of campaigning. It was true that she'd enjoyed many aspects of her time on the campaign trail; and she'd always be grateful that she'd had the privilege of listening to the soaring speeches delivered by both Obama and Joe Biden at the Democratic convention. But after the convention, Rory had written her last article for Hugo Gray and returned home briefly. After a few days at home, she'd flown to San Francisco on a new mission. She knew what she wanted, and being a traveling reporter was no longer it.

In the September sunshine, she walked down the steps of the _San Francisco Chronicle_ building, a little smile on her face, lost in her own thoughts. She gazed down the sidewalk, watching the people, the vehicles, the leaves turning in the wind and the clouds drifting in the sky. Someone came up behind her and gently tapped her on the back. Rory jumped and turned.

"Hey," said Logan. He was wearing a business jacket and tie and looked awfully professional; but he also wore the same old grin, the same old sparkle in his eyes that she'd grown to love.

"Oh my God, what are you doing here?" Rory gasped, taking a step forwards. He hugged her gently, grinning widely.

"I live in San Francisco, remember? I thought we were staying in touch. Why didn't you tell me you were going to be here?"

"I was going to surprise you. Who told you?"

"It's my fault," said Logan, as he took the lead and the two of them began walking down the sidewalk. "I called your house yesterday and your dad said you had an interview at _The Chronicle_. I think he wanted to make sure we actually met up."

"Well, here we are, meeting up."

Logan stopped to look at her, his eyes mildly concerned. "So is it true? You quit the online newspaper?"

"Yeah, I did."

"What happened?" he asked as they began walking again. "Hugo Gray get to you? If he said something, I'm going up there and giving it to him."

"No, he practically begged me to stay. He offered me a 15 percent raise if I stayed."

"And you turned him down?"

"I said thank you for the offer and thanks for letting me write for you, but no thanks."

"But Ace, this was your dream. The new Christiane Amanpour, remember?"

"I remember. But dreams change."

Logan peered at Rory, trying to read her face. "You shouldn't have to live anything less than your biggest dreams."

"I'm not." Rory stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. "Look, I really got along fine with Hugo and some of the job was great, but in the end, you know what? Reporters aren't gods, they're no wiser than other people."

"You're kidding."

"Out of the hundreds of reporters I met, maybe ten of them put their own opinions aside and dug for the facts. The rest of them didn't even seem capable of independent thought. They just went _en masse_ and fawned all over Barack Obama."

"I thought you were a fan."

"I've got nothing personal against Obama. I've met him, he seems nice. But God, Logan, it's like he could say he's going to spend the whole budget planting avacados in Alaska and they'd say he was going to save the world. I thought reporters were supposed to investigate the facts and report on them, not listen to a good speech and report how it made them feel."

"They are supposed to report the facts, and that's what you do."

"Or would if I still thought I wanted to be a reporter."

"Who cares if the rest of them are writing opinion as fact, you'll report exactly what happened and put them all to shame."

"Yeah, well, it's pretty hard when you're working under someone who knows exactly what slant he wants in his magazine. But it wasn't just that. I'm just not sure I'm cut out to be that kind of reporter."

"Ace..."

"I don't know if I can handle all the pressure, the having to be aggressive and just go out there and get interviews. I don't know if I can handle being part of a group where you're in if you think like them and out if you don't."

"I'm sorry, Rory. I wish I knew what to say."

"No, you don't have to say anything. I'm fine. I still like writing and I still like research, I just want to be more independent. _The Chronicle_ looked at my work for the magazine, they said I seemed like a critical and self-sufficient thinker."

"That sounds pretty good."

"It must've been good, 'cause they want to hire me."

"They already told you their decision?"

"They want to hire me as a junior columnist for this section they're starting about some of the problems in the city. I get to do a lot of my own research, offer the perspective of someone younger. They say they just want me to report what I see and hear."

"You're serious? They want to hire you?"

"Yeah. They said they want two people and it's only a weekly column, so I'd only be writing every other week, but I'm definitely one of the two.

"Ace, congratulations! Just--are you sure this what you want?"

"Well, I don't know until I try. But I have a really good feeling about this."

"As long as you're doing something that makes you happy."

"I think I am. And you know, since I got hired here, I'm going to have to move here."

"That would make sense."

"And since I'm not going to be traveling around, maybe we'll have more time to spend together."

"Yeah." Logan looked at her. His face was a mix of love and regret. "Rory, when I proposed...I shouldn't have acted like it was all or nothing."

"No, you said what you felt at the time."

"It was unfair. I should have been more patient. I should have realized you wanted a career, I should have taken your plans into account."

"I shouldn't have said no so fast. I don't know, I guess at the time marriage was the last thing I wanted to think about. It scared me, you know, with what happened with my mom and all."

"Okay. I understand." Logan took her hands, and Rory swung their arms back and forth a little. "But now my parents seem to be doing well, a couple of college friends are married and they're doing well, and I've been doing some thinking."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. My mom raised me and worked at the same time, and now she's married and she still works. There's no reason you can't do a couple of things at a time. But mostly, what I realized is...I I missed you."

"Ace…" Logan took her in his arms and kissed her gently.

"I mean, I still want a career..." Rory trailed off.

"You deserve a career," he said, as they kissed again. Rory touched his chin and softly pushed it away.

"But there's things that matter more than a career. People, you know...that you care about."

"So where do we stand now?" Logan asked, his expression serious.

"Uh, I still don't know if I'm ready for marriage right now."

"Okay," he said understandingly.

She fiddled with a button in his shirt. "But, maybe if we have an agreement…"

"How do we distinguish between agreement and engagement?"

Rory looked down for a second, then looked up hesitantly. "You can call it what you want."

Logan just grinned and kissed her again.

* * *

It was late afternoon on Sunday, September 7th. The whole day had been warm, beautiful; the sky was clear and the sun dazzling, and the day still felt more like summer than fall. Duffle bag in hand, Chris got off the city bus that ran once a day through Stars Hollow. He'd been at a business conference since Thursday, and he'd been more than relieved when the conference wrapped up. He would have driven, but his car was in the garage and Lorelai had needed hers this week for some reason…she'd had an appointment; he'd forgotten to ask where.

He couldn't believe the phone call he'd just gotten. After making a lot of small talk, Logan Huntzberger had asked him how he felt about an eventual marriage with Rory. They weren't planning anything right away, weren't even going to announce an engagement, but Logan seemed pretty sure about where their relationship was heading. He must have, if he'd called Chris.

Chris couldn't believe that someone actually thought he deserved to be consulted about Rory's future. His self-esteem had shot up, but he also felt more than a twinge of pain. He'd just begun to be a real, involved father to his daughter, and now she was going to belong to another man. Well, that was the way life went. He couldn't go back and undo the missed years; he could only do his best in the present. At least he'd be around to walk her down the aisle.

Chris was deep in thought as he walked down the road, heading towards his house. He barely recognized the man across the street at Doose's, hailing him. Then he realized it was Jackson. Chris crossed the street, noticing that Jackson looked slightly unkempt and harried. He was hefting three brown bags.

"Hey! Christopher! How're you doing, buddy?" said Jackson.

"Not too bad," said Christopher, peering briefly inside the bags. "Yourself?"

"Oh, just picking up canned baby food from Doose's. Sookie is beside herself. Daisy won't eat any of Sookie's homemade baby food. I'm a little miffed myself. I planted all those vegetables, hoed them, watered them, harvested them with the fatherly intention of providing for my family, and my daughter won't eat them."

"Give it time. Gigi's only vegetable intake until the age of three consisted of French fries and iceberg lettuce."

"Well, that's encouraging. For the sake of Sookie's emotional health, I hope to God it doesn't take Daisy two more years to eat her vegetables."

"Ah, just tell her to look at Gigi. She turned out all right."

Jackson shifted a bag to his hip. "Speaking of Gigi, Davey and Martha had a great time with her today."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. She can come back any time."

"Or, Lorelai and I could have Davey and Martha at our house."

"That would work too," said Jackson in a grateful tone. "Speaking of friendly get-togethers, the four of us have to visit sometime. It'll be good for Sookie. It'll be good for my sanity."

"I'll tell Lorelai you said that," grinned Chris. He checked his watch; it was approaching six o'clock. "Speaking of Lorelai, I've got to get back to her."

"You two are newlyweds," Jackson replied. Christopher gave him a quizzical look. "Believe me," Jackson continued, "there'll come a time when you won't be saying it like that."

Christopher just looked incredulously at Jackson, who looked slightly embarrassed. "Not that, ah, I'm delaying going home to Sookie, but there are the moments. My friend, enjoy it while you can."

"See you around, Jackson," said Chris. He watched Jackson trot off at a slow but determined pace. "Good luck cultivating Daisy's gourmet palate," he called over his sholuder.

Chris chuckled to himself as he walked away. Poor Jackson. Chris knew Jackson and Sookie well enough by now to know that Sookie really was probably hysterical and snappish and impossible to live with, but he also knew Jackson really didn't mind going back home to her...eventually.

As for himself, he couldn't imagine not wanting to go home. At the very thought of seeing Lorelai when he walked in the door, Chris quickened his pace. These last few months had been better than he'd imagined. They'd had their bad days, and they'd certainly had their fights, but Lorelai was a lot more likely to back down and compromise now, and Chris was much more likely to stick around and work things through.

They'd renewed their wedding vows on the inconspicuous date of July 26th, a day with no apparent bad omens. Afterwards, they'd taken a two-week honeymoon to Bermuda. Christopher had dreamed about a honeymoon with Lorelai for years, yet impossible as it seemed, it had been better than his dreams. Weeks had passed, and still, at idle moments in the day, he'd find himself reliving their time together. He thought about wandering along the beach with her hand in his, the lazy hours lying on the sand next to her, and after the sun set, the nights with her. Sometimes Chris felt almost intoxicated by how good his marriage was. It had been worth the twenty-four year wait. But best of all, he was sure that Lorelai was content. Chris would never have tried to stay with her if he didn't think she was happy. But this year had been totally different from the first part of their marriage. Lorelai was there when he got home, she called him at work at least once a day, sometimes more; and that honeymoon…When Lorelai gave of herself, what man could ask for more? Chris honestly believed none of the men at his job had it anywhere near as good with their wives. Who else got to have their lover, best and oldest friend, and the mother of their child all in one wonderful person?

He stood at the end of his driveway for a minute, drinking in the sight. His yard, and his house, with his daughter and his wife inside. Since when did he deserve to be this lucky? Second chances and happy endings like this happened in movies, not in real life. Suddenly, Christopher's ecstatic reverie was interrupted by a jarring sight. A plump woman in a voluminous loud print dress was emerging from his house. She waved goodbye at someone inside, and then headed down the steps. A smile forming on his lips, Christopher ambled towards the house. Miss Patty spotted him.

"Well, Christopher Hayden."

"Hi, Patty."

"Bye Patty, hi Patty...I've never met any other man that could make my heart flip just by saying two words."

"Bye Patty," grinned Christopher.

"Oh, you charmer. I hope Lorelai tells you how lucky she is," said Patty. Christopher gave her one of his most charming looks, hoping that would send Patty sailing away. It seemed to work, because, with a backwards glance, she fluttered her eyelashes at him and continued heading down the driveway. Christopher shook his head as he continued up the driveway. He didn't have anything against Miss Patty, exactly, but sometimes she disturbed him. He wasn't sure whether she had actually accepted him as a member of the town, or whether she was secretly harbouring a grudge underneath a lot of sweet talk. In any case, she was somewhat strange, and he wasn't sure to take the flirting as flattery or a mild kind of harrassment.

All thoughts of Miss Patty fled away, though, as Christopher turned the doorknob of his house. The door wasn't locked, and he stepped in, dropping his bag on the floor and looking eagerly around for his wife. Then he stopped short. In the living room, Lorelai was sorting through old records and tapes, putting some in boxes and discarding others.

"Hi honey, I'm home," he said, standing behind her. She turned briefly, gave him a quick smile, and then turned right back around.

"Well, hello, Desi."

Befuddled, Chris took a step closer. "What are you doing?"

"Packing," said Lorelai, continuing to sort. She seemed annoyingly nonchalant about his presence, considering the fact that he'd been gone for the better part of the week.

"You picked now to move out?" asked Christopher, standing by her side..

Lorelai stood and faced him, kissing him quickly. "I did. You and I need a bigger house."

"Was I going to find out about this move before it happened?"

"I was going to tell you. See, what did I just do?"

"So is the down payment made on this house? Previous owners moved out? Everything ready for us to move in?"

"Nope, not ready, not purchased, not found, which is why we're going after supper to hunt down _For Sale_ signs."

"You better have some pretty powerful high beams."

"Don't mock me. Aren't you impressed with my proactive behaviour?"

"Impressed, and very bewildered."

Lorelai leaned forwards, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him so passionately that Chris' already over-taxed brain felt like it was turning to mush.

"Hi," she said. "Missed you today."

"You're changing the subject," he managed, pulling back.

"This is a great subject," she said, pulling him back in for another kiss that left Chris helpless for a minute. Finally, she pulled away, looking at him with a satisfied expression. He shook his head.

"Great as this move sounds, I seem to recall planning it for next year."

Lorelai raised her eyebrows. "I can change my mind. I'm flexible."

Chris grinned and ran his hands down her sides to her waist. "So what prompted these mental gymnastics?"

She tipped her head to the side. "Remember our discussion on the beach a few weeks ago?"

Chris feigned innocence. "I was right, by the way, you should have brought a sweater. Nights on the beach are cold."

Lorelai shook her head. "Not that discussion, the other one. Later that night."

"Ah." Chris pulled her a little nearer. "Hang on, what happened to, 'I'm too old and it won't work?' "

Lorelai skipped on her feet a little. "I feel much younger now."

"Apparently," said Chris, still keeping a firm grip on her waist. Suddenly, the expression on Lorelai's face changed; her smile faded a little and her eyes became unreadable.

"Chris. Remember that day in tenth grade when I hung around outside your class and when you came out, I told you to meet at our spot so I could tell you something?"

"That's how young you feel?"

"No, when we got there, what did I tell you?" She looked at him carefully.

"You told me..." Suddenly Chris drew back, his face going white. He looked at Lorelai again and found confirmation in her beaming smile. "Oh, boy."

"How's this for a sequel?"

"It's only been four weeks!"

"Think, how long did it take with Rory?"

"One very cold night on a balcony in the middle of January. Someone's crazy idea."

"Which someone was crazy enough to go along with. But Bermuda in August, much warmer. And works just as well."

"Wow."

"I know. Wow."

"Triple wow. Okay, I've got to sit." Chris sank into the couch weakly, and Lorelai plopped down beside him.

"Don't faint on me," she rejoined. "Sookie said Jackson did that when she told him she was pregnant with one of the kids and he hit his head on the glass lamp. It took her ages to get over it."

"Over making Jackson faint?"

"No, over the lamp breaking."

"Lor."

She looked up at him sweetly. "Yes, honey?"

"You think we're ready for this?"

"Oh, I don't know, we are forty years old. We could be grandparents."

"Let's not go there. I had a conversation with Logan today."

"He and Rory are back together for good, huh?"

"They're talking marriage."

"Well, married is good."

"Yeah?"

"I should know." Lorelai smiled and snuggled into Christopher's shoulder. He stared ahead, also smiling, but his eyes still goggling out of his face. After a while, Lorelai looked up into his face.

"So, boy or girl?"

He looked at her. "Give me a second to let my brain settle."

"What needs to settle? We raised one each by ourselves, doing it together has got to be a breeze."

"You want my help this time around?"

"Hey, I didn't get here by myself. Yes, I want your help."

"Your parents are going to fall over themselves in excitement."

Lorelai's smile instantly erased itself. "Let's not talk about my parents right now, because they are going to think they have joint ownership of this child. And my mom still wants a namesake."

"Emily's not a bad name. It's pretty popular right now."

"Nevertheless, it's my mom's name."

"Maybe it'll be a boy."

"How many kids called Richard have you met lately?"

"Look on the bright side, at least the first thing out of their mouths won't be 'get married.'"

"Hey you're right, we beat them to it!"

"You sorry? You could have had a great argument with your mom."

Lorelai put a finger to her forehead as though deep in thought. Christopher wrinkled his forehead.

"You're taking too long to respond."

"Oh. Nope, not sorry. You?"

Christopher shook his head faintly. All he could think was that this moment felt awfully familiar and awfully new at the same time. The last time Lorelai had made this kind of announcement, neither of them had felt much like celebrating. He'd felt like his future had just been turned upside down. And the truth was, the last twenty-four years had definitely had their rough spots. But none of those seemed to matter anymore, because right now the late afternoon sun was shining brilliantly through the window; the cicadas were making a peaceful drone outside the half-open door; and as far as Chris was concerned, this time around, his future looked pretty bright.

* * *


End file.
